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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991508">Belong</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/azareth/pseuds/azareth'>azareth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), X-Men (Movieverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assault, Bigotry &amp; Prejudice, Blood and Injury, Bullying, Car Accidents, Dating, Domestic Fluff, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Holidays, Human Roach, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Referenced Emotional Abuse, Serious Injuries, Slow Burn, Teacher Jaskier | Dandelion, Young Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, referenced violence/murder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:48:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>90,505</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/azareth/pseuds/azareth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern multi-perspective Geraskier AU with: Good Dad Geralt, Teen Ciri, and Teacher Jaskier.</p><p>Set in and around Boston, Massachusetts, USA. Subtle crossover in X-Men verse. Geralt and Ciri are mutants. Jaskier is human.</p><p>Geralt is Ciri’s legal guardian. He works as a Whole Foods butcher in Blaviken to make ends meet.</p><p>Ciri is starting high school this year, but secretly being a mutant makes it difficult to fit in.</p><p>Jaskier is a stylish, uninspired music teacher at Ciri’s high school. He hasn’t had much luck with love, until he meets Geralt.</p><p>*<br/><a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>794</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>GERALT</b>
</p>
<p>Nearly all the dye was used up when Geralt noticed the dramatic name of the shade splashed across the box: <i>Glam Bronde</i>. It looked dark on Cirilla’s hair, a good portion of it staining the gloves he wore. The brush and comb packaged with the kit had proved too small for his hands, as evidenced by the inadvertent snapping of each tool halfway into the process. Geralt had resorted to manually working in the rest of the mixture until there wasn’t a strand left uncoated. This, Geralt reflected, was precisely the kind of parental duty he felt inexperienced to adequately perform, yet was determined never to deny Cirilla.</p>
<p>“All set,” he said, pulling off the gloves. He handed her the rose shower cap nearby, eyeing the protective balm glistening at her hairline. “Going ‘bronde’ this year?”</p>
<p>The strange color name was new to Geralt, but the process dated a couple of years now. Seventh grade was the first time. Cirilla wanted her hair dyed before school started, in order to mute the increasingly platinum shade of her locks. It made her stand out too much, she said, just like Geralt’s locks. He hadn’t countered by pointing out that, for him, it was largely due to the cause for his abilities, because in a way she was right. Mutation, regardless of its root and stage, made them targets, its manifestation best hidden if they were to have any chance at some semblance of a normal life.</p>
<p>“I hope my roots take the dye this time,” Cirilla replied. She sat on the toilet lid with one knee raised, thin arms wrapped around it, her chin pressed glumly atop. “I should wait at least thirty minutes.”</p>
<p>Geralt sprayed cleaner in the sink. He scrubbed it down forcefully, so the color wouldn’t stain. The one-time dye tools were tossed, filling up the bin. He gathered up the bag and fitted in a replacement from under the sink.</p>
<p>“Need a hand rinsing, when the time is up?” Geralt asked, when there was seemingly nothing left for him to do but wash his hands. They’d hosed it down in the kitchen sink the last time and the mess had been significantly easier to tackle.</p>
<p>“No, that’s okay.” Cirilla snatched her smartphone from a shelf and unlocked it when a chime caught her attention. She smiled, switching open a set of pictures. “Look at the souvenir video my phone made. I really liked Castle Island, and the whales.”</p>
<p>Geralt took the device and a sentimental song launched to a slideshow of photos. They’d gone through the Boston Harbor Islands for a week over the summer. Hardly a vacation, since they’d been so close to the city, but it was their first one. The whale watch cruise was one of the few occasions Geralt had seen Cirilla truly smile, ever since becoming her guardian. It made the hassle to get the week off work all the more worth it.</p>
<p>“Nice. You need anything else for school?” Geralt asked as he gave back the phone. Cirilla shook her head, so he listed off the already acquired items in an attempt to set loose anything they might have forgotten. “Got your clothes. New backpack. Loaded CharlieCard until your student one arrives.”</p>
<p>“School supplies, water bottle, books,” Cirilla helped him out. “Contacts.”</p>
<p>“Got enough eye drops?”</p>
<p>“I think so.”</p>
<p>“I’ll get some extra tomorrow.” </p>
<p>They both wore contacts, both dark brown, though admittedly Geralt needed them far more. Cirilla had begun the same year as the hair dye. A kid on her bus the previous term tormented her endlessly for her bright eyes. Now, even at home, she rarely took them off unless to sleep. </p>
<p>Geralt didn’t know how to convince her there was nothing wrong with her appearance, as telling her wasn’t enough. He understood, perhaps better than anyone, the kind of resilience required to endure the intolerance and prejudice toward people like them. But Cirilla was just a kid. It was unfortunate that she went to such lengths to fit in someplace he doubted she would ever truly belong.</p>
<p>“You know you could ditch the contacts if this ‘bronde’ thing takes hold,” Geralt said.</p>
<p>“We could dye your hair too,” she replied, “or you could get it cut.”</p>
<p>“No.” A baseball cap or a beanie suited him just fine in transit, and work provided him with the necessary headgear. He had a couple of navy, Red Sox caps, set loose enough to encompass the habitual low bun of his flaxen locks. “That’s alright. No one’s looking at me. You did your summer reading, right?”</p>
<p>“Twice,” Cirilla replied with a sigh.</p>
<p>“Hmm.” Geralt assessed the glum expression on his teenager’s face. It was so often the look she bore, he had to remind himself this was not normal. He hoped the new school year would bring her some kind of peace of mind, maybe joy for once. High school was a beast of its own for a young mutant suppressing her powers, the extent of which neither one was fully aware. He put a casual lilt to his tone and asked her, “You looking forward to freshman year?”</p>
<p>Cirilla was silent, making the question sound awkward to his own ear. He collected the garbage after a while, left to suppose she would offer no answer. Geralt knew he wouldn’t get the hang of legal guardianship, of parenting, if he didn’t try. Communicating with Cirilla was tough, not because of anything she did, but because he never would have anticipated someone like him becoming solely responsible for bringing up a kid like her. There was still work to be done, a distance his best efforts had yet to bridge, and he chose to keep trying. </p>
<p>“I just hope I make a friend,” she told him at last, in a guarded tone, as though wishing for more would somehow break all chances of it happening.</p>
<p>Geralt straightened up to meet her eye, so full of the kind of loneliness no person should endure. His mutation affected the function of his heart, yet it cracked a little at Cirilla’s response. She never asked him for anything, a blessing, most days, a curse when he could not read her mood. And yet this was one thing he wished he could give her.</p>
<p>The timer on Cirilla’s phone went off, signaling the passage of thirty minutes and the dye rinse out. She rose quickly to set it off and shimmied past Geralt to switch on the shower.</p>
<p>“Thanks for helping me,” Cirilla said, and waited for him to take his leave.</p>
<p>Geralt sighed. “You got it,” he replied. He made his way out, only to turn back at the last moment and say, “You will, by the way. Make that friend.”</p>
<p>Cirilla looked like she wanted more than anything to believe Geralt. Just this once.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning: bullying.</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>CIRILLA</b>
</p><p>There was nothing quite like the Friday afternoon bell ringing to signal the start of the weekend. It had been a long, overwhelming first week of getting accustomed to her new commute and acquainted with the high school. Her homeroom was thankfully one of the first rooms on the school’s first floor, just after the guidance counselors office. Ciri repeatedly got lost in the crowded hallways, arriving late to classes from taking a wrong turn. </p><p>Middle school hadn’t been great, even though it was closer to where she lived in Roslindale. Despite the short ride, Ciri used to dread the thought of getting on the school bus, so Geralt had gotten her a regular bus pass to make her own way. But Ciri didn’t want to dread high school. She wanted this year to be different, better. A fresh start. </p><p>Things had a tendency to turn out differently than she pictured in her head. The first day, she kept to herself for the most part, trying to figure out how so many girls in her class knew each other so well already. Instagram and TikTok, she assumed, both platforms she was on as more spectator than participant.</p><p>Ciri had practiced introducing herself in the mirror, while the dye in her hair applied itself, but it seemed that was just a dress rehearsal to a show she hadn’t made the cut. Maybe it was just her perception, but everyone seemed to have already organized themselves in squads and pairs. By Friday, she felt more relieved the week was over, than disappointed she’d barely worked up the nerve to talk to anyone.</p><p>At least her hair turned out okay. It looked way cuter than previous attempts and her roots had set better. Ciri went to her locker to swap the contents of her bag for what she would need for weekend homework. Students bumped into her in their rush to leave, either on purpose, or because she didn’t seem to exist. As she picked up some of the scattered belongings, Ciri thought it might be better to wait until the hall thinned out to get to her locker. </p><p>Hunger gnawed at her belly as she emerged on the high school steps. She brought lunch from home sometimes and had neglected to do so that morning. Geralt always gave her a twenty at the start of the week, leaving her some extra cash on the table mid-week, just in case she ran out. But Ciri, so conscious of money nowadays, and its distinct lack whenever Geralt frowned gravely over bills, had developed a tendency never to spend what he gave her. She usually put it back in his wallet when he was sleeping and so far, it seemed he was none the wiser. </p><p>She hopped on one of the school’s designated MBTA buses that would make a stop at the train station nearby. Green Street was within walking distance of the high school, but the bus was faster. She stood behind the yellow line and was the only student to get off first, traversing swiftly over the platform.</p><p>The Orange Line train going in either direction was always emptier during the day. Ciri took it toward Oak Grove and came off a few stops before downtown. Another ten minutes on foot and she was at Blaviken Inkblock, a recently built, high-end apartment complex, with its own crisp shopping section.</p><p>Ciri took the Whole Foods entrance of Blaviken, traveling past cash registers and colorful produce to make a turn into the grocery section. A shortcut led her straight to the meat department, from where she could see a line of customers and the butchers catering swiftly to them. </p><p>Geralt was easily the most imposing man behind the high, glass cased counter. He had his pensive, listening face on for a gesticulating patron with pretty, tightly coiled hair. Cirilla went up to the line and waited for her turn, letting people go by her whenever another butcher was available so she could remain in the queue.</p><p>“Hi. How may I help you?” Geralt asked, before the focus relaxed from his gaze and he saw her. “Oh. Hey Cirilla, how was school?”</p><p>“It was good. You have to sign some stuff,” Ciri told him. He wore his work apron, a black Whole Foods beanie, and his clear gloves were bloody.</p><p>“Okay.” Geralt leaned on the counter, forearms near the scale. “You hungry?” </p><p>Ciri nodded eagerly and Geralt removed his gloves to fetch an employee discount card from his pocket. “You staying?”</p><p>“Maybe.” Ciri stood on her toes to reach up to his level and retrieve the card. “I’ll make up my mind after I eat.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Ciri gave him a little parting wave which he returned languidly, and then made off to Prepared Foods to fix herself a tray. There weren’t too many people in the seating area and she settled in her favorite two-person table by the window. They were reading <i>Animal Farm</i> in English class to start off the new term and Ciri fished it out of her bag, unintentionally making some headway on her homework. Several hours elapsed without her notice when a hulking figure made its way toward her.</p><p>“What are you reading?” Geralt asked, easing into the seat across her with a sigh. </p><p>Ciri turned the book over to show him the cover. </p><p>He hummed, after a silent assessment. “You know what you want for dinner?” he asked. “There’s still some fresh pizza from the ovens, or I can get you something else.”</p><p>“Pizza is fine,” Ciri replied. “Are you working overnight?”</p><p>Geralt nodded. “Once the counter closes.”</p><p>“Wanna sign the forms right now or tomorrow?”</p><p>“Get them out, I’ll take a look.” Geralt rose and extended his palm with a silent beckon. Cirilla had learned to decode many of his gestures and looks, knowing instinctively what most of them meant now.</p><p>“Oh, right.” Cirilla returned his employee card and he made off while she got out her binder. Geralt returned a few minutes later, pizza in tow. There was his break meal and a sealed, grease-stained paper bag for her. </p><p>Geralt set both to one side and smoothed his hands over his jeans before taking the school forms Ciri held out. He reviewed them briefly, relying on her explanations before signing on the lines.</p><p>“How was your first week?” Geralt asked once that was done.</p><p>“It was fine.” Ciri packed up her bag while he started on his meal. “Algebra’s really confusing. I don’t think I’m good at Spanish but the teacher’s kinda cool. And I get to start my new specialty next week.”</p><p>“Art, huh?”</p><p>“It was either that, or music.”</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>“And I don’t think I’d be good at music, anyway.”</p><p>“You won’t know until you try.”</p><p>Ciri shook her head. “I don’t want to. Art is easier.”</p><p>“How are your classmates?”</p><p>“Um, they’re fine,” Ciri frowned. “Kind of clique-y, I guess. I don’t know.” She was grateful when Geralt chewed thoughtfully on that for a while.</p><p>“Anyone nice?” he asked after a moment.</p><p>“Yeah, I talked to a couple of friendly people.”</p><p>Geralt paused to smile softly. He seemed so quietly relieved, Ciri felt bad for lying to him. “That’s really good. Hey, Glam Bronde looks good on you, kid.”</p><p>Ciri huffed, shaking her head. “Thanks. You did a good job,” she felt the need to add, seeing he was halfway through his meal already.</p><p>Eating was functional for Geralt, usually with no care for decorum beyond basic social hygiene. Cirilla had noticed early on he could eat just about anything without consequence. Food magically disappeared within his maw and his great jaw worked visibly to break it down.</p><p>“I can take you to a salon next time,” Geralt offered, pausing to drink.</p><p>“That’s okay, I don’t mind dyeing it at home. That’s how me and Auntie Roach got it done the other time, remember?”</p><p>“Maybe we can see her if those roots act up again.”</p><p>Ciri nodded eagerly at that. Rochelle was one of her favorite people, though Ciri still could not work out any relation between her and Geralt. When they met, he only introduced the sturdy brunette as being like a sister to him.</p><p>Geralt checked his watch once he was finished eating. He only did that when he was due back at the counter. Ciri took it as her cue to pull on her jacket, zip up, and toss her bag over her shoulders.</p><p>“Here you go.” Geralt had also risen, handing over the packaged pizza. “Be careful. Text me when you get home.”</p><p>“I will.” He opened an arm up and Ciri went into it for a quick side hug. “Bye, see you tomorrow morning.”</p><p>If his break was longer, Geralt would have walked her back to the train station. He’d done so a few times in the past, foregoing dinner to see her safely back to Tufts Medical Center. But Ciri was older now. Anyway, it was a ten minute walk she was accustomed to doing.</p><p>The train took her all the way back in the opposite direction, the terminal just past her high school, and she hustled to hop on a departing bus home. It was full dark by the time she got in and texted Geralt to let him know. He wouldn’t see it, nor would he respond, but Ciri sent it anyway.</p><p>She left her bag in her room, warmed up some pizza, and carefully tucked any leftovers in the fridge. Ciri fired up her computer while waiting for her food to reheat.  She launched her favorite site and chat server, mostly to roleplay, and finally felt at ease. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>While she had hoped matters would get easier as the weeks of school went on, things didn't quite turn out that way. Admittedly not all of her classmates were distant or aloof, but Ciri felt incredibly awkward whenever she wanted to approach anyone. She’d psych herself out trying to think about what they must be thinking of her, wondering if they could tell what she was hiding, to the point it became easier to just keep quiet. </p><p>The lunch period was the most stressful. Whether she remembered to bring whatever Geralt left in the fridge for her or not, Ciri always faced the same predicament: where to sit. The first week of school she had naturally gravitated toward the familiar faces of the students she shared a homeroom with, listening more than she spoke. But as the weeks went on and alliances solidified, Ciri found herself getting more and more discouraged.</p><p>By the third week, Ciri knew she had waited too long. She was uncomfortable approaching people when they sat and walked and did everything together. Most of her attempts to smile at people were either ignored or answered with dirty looks. It felt like she wasn’t herself any longer. She’d been a happy kid, when her grandparents were alive. She had so many friends. Somewhere along the way, Ciri felt like she lost the ability to connect with people. She lost herself inside her head.</p><p>Sitting alone in the cafeteria was easier. Ciri would stick close to the door, just in case she changed her mind and decided to spend another lunch period at the library. It was, to her knowledge, the only place that remained open, and the librarian was nice enough. There, at least, it didn’t look weird when she was by herself, though food was strictly forbidden.</p><p>One particular afternoon, about a month since school started, Ciri was faced with her new choice of eating alone or hiding behind a book. After idling at her locker, hunger pulled her to the cafeteria. She purchased lunch for the first time. Having arrived later than usual, she was dismayed to find her usual spot near the exit was taken.</p><p>Ciri wandered around for a time, looking for anywhere that was open. She found a corner at a noisy, popular table and took it. She should have known better, in hindsight. But Ciri had seen a brown haired teacher in the vicinity of the rowdy students. He seemed engaged in conversation with the loudest of them, in the half-hearted way teachers on duty were to remain vigilant, and she thought it was safe.</p><p>A girl in her Biology class quickly took notice of her and approached with two others. They surrounded Ciri, sitting on all sides, and started smiling, asking her what her name was, wondering how come they’d never seen her before. </p><p>Ciri knew them, in the way one knows another based solely on social media. These were the kind of popular girls who didn’t act without an agenda. They asked about her hair, what teachers she had, if she wasn’t someone's cousin whom they knew. Ciri did her best to answer their questions calmly, hoping they would get bored of her and go back to their boyfriends. </p><p>They didn’t. Thus, Ciri opted to focus on her food. It was that dismissal which turned their friendly attitudes around.</p><p>“Why are you ignoring us, huh?” one of them spat. “Who do you think you are, little loser? We’re doing you a favor talking to you.”</p><p>Ciri bit her lip and tried to think of something to say. She had nothing. Not a single thought. Her silence was the final judgment. It started with the girls ‘accidentally’ knocking over her milk. It spilled out of her tray and leaked, causing uproar from the students nearby. Ciri decided to leave the cafeteria and she rose. </p><p>Only, the milk had trailed to the floor and the moment she tried to withdraw from the bench, she slipped and went toppling, knocking her head against the bench.</p><p>The uproar grew louder and turned into laughter. It attracted the attention of a table over, and another. Ciri looked around, her face burning. They were all staring at her. All laughing. </p><p>She wanted to scream, despite Geralt telling her never to do that. No matter what. No matter how bad things got. She wanted to disappear. With tears in her eyes, which drew another string of taunts, Ciri tried getting up. </p><p>A teacher came to her side to help her up. He asked her if she was alright but Ciri didn’t respond. She got on her bag and tried reaching for her lunch tray.</p><p>“Leave it,” said the teacher. It was the same who’d been nearby, endeavoring to get the jocks to simmer down. “A janitor will clean up before another person slips. What’s your name?”</p><p>Ciri didn’t answer him. She couldn’t even look at him. He led her away from the cafeteria, another teacher hot on their trail.</p><p>“Cirilla, are you okay?” It was her homeroom teacher, Mr. Lazlo. </p><p>Ciri looked over to him and wiped the tears from her face. “My head,” she replied, crying softly. “It hurts really bad.”</p><p>“You should see the nurse,” he said, adding swiftly to the first, rescuing teacher, “Can you make sure she gets there okay?”</p><p>“Yes, of course.” Leaving Mr. Lazlo behind, this man instigated a brisk walk over to the nurse’s office, where he efficiently explained what happened. The nurse gave Ciri painkillers and an ice pack for the bruise, inviting her to rest for a time when she did not ask to go home.</p><p>She was mortified, but if she went home before two in the afternoon, Geralt would be there sleeping. Ciri didn’t want to alarm him. She declined the nurse alerting him about any of it, and accepted a tardy note for the next period.</p><p>Once she emerged from the nurse’s office Ciri realized the teacher who’d walked her over had been waiting the entire time.</p><p>“Hey!” he said, pushing off the wall. “Good, you’re here. I’ve got class next period and wasn’t sure I could stay much longer.  All cleared?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Ciri showed him the note.</p><p>“Excellent. Now, are you sure you’re alright? I know those girls caused the incident to happen,” he said slowly and carefully, “and if you wanted, you could make a complaint. I could help you.”</p><p>“No,” Ciri said quickly, looking into his face. He was being kind, she knew, but... “I can’t. I don’t want to get in trouble.”</p><p>He frowned down in puzzlement at her. “I believe the way it works is they would get in trouble, and you wouldn’t.”</p><p>“No, please, I don’t think it’s a good idea. And I feel fine, so I think I should go back to class now.”</p><p>“Alright. Well,” he said, “let me walk you back at least. Always better to have a teacher on your side if you’re going to be late. The note is really just an added plus.”</p><p>Ciri nodded and made a brief stop over at her locker to get her things. He walked her all the way over to Algebra, which was nearly to the end of the period, and had a fleeting word with the mathematics teacher at the door, just confirming where Ciri had come from.</p><p>“Alright,” said the math teacher, after peering suspiciously at Ciri. “Thanks, Mr. Pankratz.” </p><p>With that, Ciri quietly went to her seat.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>JASKIER</b>
</p><p>Some days, as he listened to the cacophony of his students, or surveyed their shenanigans during his occasional lunch duty, Jaskier asked himself how on God’s green earth he’d resorted to being a teacher for so long. For as much as he loved music to his core, to the point it seemed like he would be next to nothing without it, there was something deeply wrong with him lately.</p><p>Jaskier couldn’t write any new music. It was the reason he’d started teaching after his band broke up; he began working with middle schoolers at first, thinking he’d only do it for about a year while working on some new solo material. But a year became two, and that became three, then five years and a high school in Boston’s Jamaica Plain, and Jaskier still hadn’t composed anything more exciting than recycled school band tunes for his students, feeling nothing short of a fraud.</p><p>He couldn’t tell what killed him the slowest: the perpetual, terrifying silence in his mind, or the feeling that he was going nowhere fast in life.</p><p>Work kept him busy enough not to dwell. The high school was holding its fall Parent-Teacher Conference Night, and Jaskier hoped to have a bit more of a turn out this year. Specialty teachers like him tended to be forgotten by parents since the courses were pass or fail. Jaskier would, in previous years, stand out into the corridor by his room, just to be visible. He learned over time the few conversations he did have with interested parents tended to be swift.</p><p>He arrived at school the morning of Parent-Teacher Conference Night at his usual time to tidy the eclectic music room, straightening posters and dusting music stands. His Choir students, or the Bards, as Jaskier called them, soon filed in for the second period. They were the most fun and after them, a weaker section of Band he referred to as the Dandelions would come in. </p><p>At lunch, a handful of students usually stopped by to rehearse, play around with instruments, or ask him every question under the sun. Cheerful Jaskier welcomed it, for the alternative tended to regretfully be cafeteria duty a couple of days a week. He much preferred situating himself at the piano, or his desk to work while having a bite, and leaving students to their own devices. Recently though, not all his lunch time visitors were disciples of music.</p><p>Cirilla was a bit of an outcast in the freshman class. Jaskier was aware she was bullied, having witnessed some variation of it on several occasions. He felt sorry for the girl and after a time, he mentioned the music room was safe, if ever she wished to stop by. His only policy was students had to clean up after themselves, be it food or replacing instruments.</p><p>She slouched inside a few minutes late as usual and Jaskier smiled at her from his desk. “Hello Cirilla. Lovely of you to join us once again. Minstrels,” Jaskier called out to the corner of mostly awkward boys plucking terribly at guitar strings, “Say hello to Cirilla.”</p><p>“Hey Cirilla,” came the dutiful chorus.</p><p>Jaskier made them do it because it brought a smile to the poor girl’s face.</p><p>“Hi everyone,” Cirilla said meekly, coming over to Jaskier. She liked the seat closest to his desk, yet still at a corner. “We’re reading <i>The Crucible</i> in English class, Mr. Pankratz. Have you read it?”</p><p>“Ah, yes, Miller.” He inhaled deeply and looked from his computer screen to where Cirilla settled. “Those Salem Witch Trials were horrid, weren’t they?”</p><p>“Abigail scares me,” Cirilla replied with a shudder.</p><p>“Prejudice and persecution is frightening,” he agreed. “Even more unsettling is how prevalent it remains to this day, toward mutants. Now, have you been to Salem for Halloween?”</p><p>“No… but I heard it’s really cool.” Cirilla got her lunch bag out. “Mr. Mousesack says we’re going to read <i>The Scarlet Letter</i> next.”</p><p>It was Jaskier’s turn to shudder slightly. “Hester Prynne,” he said, “more persecution and puritanism in your horizon, then. I hope you’ll read something cheerful soon enough.” Jaskier tilted his head curiously. “It seems you rather like your English class.”</p><p>“It’s interesting. I guess I’m good at it.”</p><p> “Excellent. Are your parents coming tonight to the Parent-Teacher Conference?”</p><p>“Yeah, my d-,” Cirilla began then faltered, her shoulders hunching slightly forward. In an amended tone, she answered, “My guardian is coming.”</p><p>“Ah.” Jaskier caught the slip but he showed no signs of it, going quietly back to his work. </p><p>Once the bell rang for the end of lunch, Jaskier clapped his hands and bid his Minstrels a good day. He was pleased to see them put everything back where it belonged, albeit quite languidly, before slipping out in the throng of his second block of Band students filtering inside.</p><p>After school Jaskier attended a quick staff meeting in preparation for the evening. Then he went home, turned on the news, and tidied up his arsenal of instruments. He didn’t know why he bothered even having a television. The diffusion was always the same. Mutants across the country, the incredible things they could do, and the government’s scramble to keep them all within bounds. In Jaskier’s opinion, the persecutions were a bit much. Rather than leaving them be and embracing solidarity, new laws were passed almost daily to find, assimilate, or jail them. </p><p>It was full dark by six o’clock and brisk, the October air biting shrewdly. Jaskier changed into a snug-fitting, burgundy cable knit sweater, slim, tapered grey trousers, and his favorite brown Grenson leather boots. Fall in Boston had once again lasted two sorry weeks in September. It was time for a wool coat, as far as Jaskier was concerned. He didn’t care what any hardened, dunkin-iced-coffee-in-the-winter drinking New Englander had to say on the matter. </p><p>Driving took him quickly to school and he arrived to find some parents already on site. The music teacher threw his classroom door ajar and smiled at the forethought he’d had to tidy up early. The instruments were in their cases and locked up, save for the few on display. The chairs were in order and his desk was organized. He slid his coat on a hanger, placed a chair outside the classroom out of courtesy, in the highly unlikely event there should be more than one set of parents wanting to see him at the same time, and then, he waited.</p><p>After a quiet half hour, Jaskier switched on a bit of jazz, the mix starting with Miles Davis’ <i>So What</i>, and decided he was only staying another hour. While he didn’t have anything better to do, he’d spent some portion of his time after school on a dating app, flirting with the idea of an encounter that night. A relationship, something he cherished when he had it, was practically an alien concept to him at this point. </p><p>Five intentional years of being very single, and just taking what he could get, had finally worn him down. He was cheerful and always smiling because deep down, Jaskier felt hollow. Sometimes the only thing he had to look forward to was seeing friends’ concerts now and again, too uninspired to be bothered with much else. Jaskier wondered if that was why his musicality suffered so deeply, because there was no meaning left to what he did. He marveled at how lackluster his life had become, curious as to when things would change, when inspiration would return, when he would feel alive again.</p><p>At the end of an hour, Dave Brubeck’s <i>Take Five</i> inspired him out of his chair. Jaskier went out to stand at the door. Further down the corridor he could see a Chemistry teacher with plenty of visitors. Eventually a couple of parents did turn up for music and Jaskier was delighted to put parental faces to his students. Some were part of his Minstrels lunch crew and he had nothing but good things to say, in addition, of course, to preaching as much practice as possible. </p><p>Jaskier even advertised an upcoming field trip in November. He’d volunteered to chaperone, though he could no longer remember why he would do that to himself, considering it had nothing to do with music but the outdoors, and it would likely be freezing cold. Thankfully the trip would potentially not happen if the weather was inclement, which was a small mercy.</p><p>By the time he’d received a whopping four parents and students, the hour and half he usually dedicated to this night was through. Art Blakey &amp; The Jazz Messengers came on, <i>Moanin’</i> filtering steadily from his speakers. Jaskier checked his watch and decided he had just enough time to hit the men’s room, lock up, and slip out undetected. </p><p>He returned a few minutes later to find a tall and broad-shouldered figure occupying the seat outside his classroom. Jaskier slowed his gait, oddly struck by the visual of the strange man to the sound of music coming from his class. He glanced down the hallway, his mind running through the possibility of parents having magically come out of the blue to want to see him in the last five minutes. But there was no one else.</p><p>“Hello there,” he said, approaching at last, “can I help you?”</p><p>The man looked up from underneath a Boston Red Sox cap and took to his feet, immediately extending a hand.</p><p>“Are you Mr. Pank--, Pancreas--, ah,” he faltered, uncertainty taking hold of his broad features.</p><p>“Jaskier Pankratz,” the music teacher helped him out, giving his meaty hand a vigorous shake.</p><p>“Jaskier,” the man repeated, turning it over with a quirk of his brow. His richly masculine voice made an impression on the keen-eared musician. “That’s easier.”</p><p>“Then, you will have to call me that. None of this Mr. Pankratz business, unless you’re looking for my father.” Jaskier laughed pleasantly to diffuse some of the shock he felt, and looked the fellow over sweepingly. Rugged, from the feel of his hands to the cut of his jaw. “And you are?”</p><p>“Geralt.” He took his hand back and seemed unsure what to do with it. “I’m Cirilla Riannon’s guardian.”</p><p>“Oh, yes, Cirilla!” Blue eyes looked briefly around. The freshman was not one of his students. What was her burly hunk of a guardian doing here? Not that Jaskier was complaining, but it seemed odd the girl wasn’t around.</p><p>“She needed the restroom,” Geralt supplied, “but she wanted us to say hi.”</p><p>Jaskier cooed, smiling upon hearing that last. “How very kind. Please, come in,” he ushered swiftly. “It’s hard enough getting the parents of my own students to stop by, what a lovely surprise this is.” </p><p>Geralt looked imposing, emanating power regardless of whether he was standing or sitting; he did not share his daughter’s hunch, but it seemed he was just as quiet, with even fewer words. </p><p>“I presume you’ve spoken to her other teachers already?” Jaskier asked once they sat opposite each other.</p><p>“I have,” Geralt answered, his gaze dark and steady.</p><p>“Well? How is she doing?”</p><p>“Average,” he said plainly. “She’s having a hard time in Algebra. Managing the rest but only just. She’ll need a tutor. But she’s doing good in English.”</p><p>Sweet, blessed full sentences. Geralt had the deepest voice Jaskier had ever heard, since <i>You Want it Darker</i> Leonard Cohen, with a surround-sound quality to it which briefly drew Jaskier’s attention to the man’s chest. He found it unsurprisingly broad and thick, an undeniable source of strength, not to mention, great acoustics. </p><p>“I think that is her favorite subject,” Jaskier seemed to remember, “is it not?”</p><p>“It is.”</p><p>“Mr. Mousesack has been here for years.” Jaskier gave another smile, discouraged he had yet to receive one back. “He is a favorite among students.”</p><p>“Cirilla tells me you let her and other students have lunch in this room sometimes,” Geralt stated. “Seems unexpected.”</p><p>“Ah, yes. Well, growing up, there were times even I could not bear the thought of the school cafeteria,” Jaskier found himself easily admitting. “The music room was always a safe haven.”</p><p>A suspicious frown flickered beneath Geralt’s Red Sox hat. “Something happen to her in the cafeteria?” </p><p>“Erm…” Jaskier’s head tilted, for he realized Cirilla had likely not mentioned the incidents to her guardian. “Suffice it to say,” Jaskier began, treading carefully, “Cirilla, once in a while, prefers to enjoy a good book in here with her lunch, just as some of her peers would rather learn to play the guitar from their friends than actually take my class. In any case, my door is always open for students. Sometimes that makes all the difference.”</p><p>Geralt considered Jaskier’s desk in silence, more than likely understanding what the music teacher insinuated. If he wanted to know more, he would have to ask Cirilla. It was not Jaskier’s place to put them at odds, especially given that he wasn’t even her teacher. </p><p>“I just want the best for her.” Geralt lowered his gaze, a tension easing from his shoulders. “Middle school was tough. She didn’t make a whole lot of friends.”</p><p>Jaskier softened, struck by Geralt’s disarming sincerity. “She is a wonderful girl and I am sorry to hear it. Students can be cruel,” he agreed, wanting to cheer up the man. “That’s why I make sure my Minstrels always say hello when she joins us. I think they might yet encourage her to pick up an instrument.”</p><p>“Your what?”</p><p>Geralt looked so thrown, Jaskier backtracked very quickly and said, “Oh, the Minstrels! It’s what I call the lunch crew that usually comes in. My choir students are the Bards, you see.” The frown on Geralt’s face looked non-committal, like he was slowly growing amused by Jaskier. “And I’ve got the Dandelions and the Poets for Band.”</p><p>“Very creative,” Geralt decided after a moment.</p><p>“Why, thank you very much!” Jaskier said with a laugh. He could have sworn the beautiful mouth on Geralt turned upward just slightly. The sight caused a satisfying rush of warmth to sweep over him and travel to his face. Emboldened, Jaskier’s teeth found his lower lip and he stole another sweeping look. Pressing closer on his elbows and he said, “So, tell me, Geralt, what do you do?</p><p>“I’m a butcher.”</p><p>Jaskier stared. “Really?”</p><p>“Customer service,” Geralt elaborated. </p><p> “Whereabouts?” </p><p>“Blaviken.”</p><p>“That’s where I live!” Jaskier chimed excitedly.</p><p>“The fancy Inkblock building?”</p><p>“Ah, no, let me rephrase. I live in the South End, so, very close by,” Jaskier said, “and the Blaviken Inkblock building came up just around the time I moved to Boston.”</p><p>“So, you’ve been here about five years.”</p><p>Jaskier nodded, welcoming the interest.</p><p>“Explains the accent,” Geralt decided.</p><p>The music teacher blinked, perking up at that little remark, unusually flattered Geralt had noticed. He was going to formulate a response, when...</p><p>“Hi Mr. Pankratz,” called a voice from the classroom entrance. Cirilla made her way inside and Jaskier beamed at her.</p><p>“There you are, Cirilla! I was just telling your dad about the Minstrels!” Jaskier said, a bit too excitedly, belatedly noticing the look student and parent exchanged. “Guardian, I meant. My apologies.”</p><p>Geralt turned to Cirilla. “Do we need to see anyone else?”</p><p>She shook her head and said, “Mr. Pankratz is really nice to me. I wanted to save him for last.”</p><p>“Oh, bless you. I’ll make a Bard of you yet.” Jaskier was endeared to the girl, and so very grateful for the introduction to Geralt.</p><p>Cirilla pulled a scarf over her neck with a small smile at him.</p><p>Geralt rose and asked her, “You ready to go?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Um, hey, Cirilla, have you signed up for the field trip to the Blue Hills Reservation Park?” Jaskier blurted out, dismayed the meeting was already over. He sprang to his feet, invigorated to find some way to see Geralt again, and searched his drawers for a form he’d half-heartedly advertised before.</p><p>“Um, no, it’s kind of expensive,” she murmured.</p><p>“Oh, I... hadn’t realized there was a cost,” Jaskier said, sheepishly scouring the sheet for a detail he hadn’t considered.</p><p>Geralt frowned at her response. “How much is it?”</p><p>“Fifty dollars.” Jaskier’s gaze narrowed, having located the price. He handed the form over to Geralt and all at once, he saw the situation more clearly. The man was a butcher. And Geralt’s attire, a casual black hoodie beneath a well worn Carhartt jacket, plain jeans, and even plainer boots, suddenly hit him differently.</p><p>“Do you want to go, Ciri?” Geralt pressed.</p><p>“I don’t know. Maybe?”</p><p>Jaskier regretted using this to his advantage when it could have been an added cost they might have done without. And Geralt, what could he say in such a situation? </p><p>“When is it?” Geralt asked him.</p><p>“It’s in November,” Jaskier said, “weather permitting, of course. It should be from morning until about noon, and the cost is for the provided lunch and activities. In fact we’re looking for parents to help chaperone. But, Cirilla,” he added swiftly, “I only wanted to make sure you’d heard about it. I’m meant to chaperone though it might not happen at all, in which case a full refund would be provided.” </p><p>Geralt appraised the sheet and then folded it neatly. “Thank you. I’ll send the money, if she wants to go.”</p><p>“Alright.” Jaskier accepted that. “Well, thank you both for taking the time to stop by.” He extended a hand to Geralt, his last attempt, and met the man’s gaze head on. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Geralt. Cirilla is always welcome in the music room.”</p><p>Geralt, after hesitating, shook Jaskier’s hand. “Thanks.”</p><p>“Bye Mr. Pankratz,” Cirilla said.</p><p>“Bye bye now. See you tomorrow.”</p><p>After they were gone, Jaskier let loose a long breath. A hand went up to his face while he stood there, mind replaying the last ten minutes. Geralt’s intense looks were still fresh, that almost-smile and tilt of his head, the perceptiveness. He’d been so busy staring at the man Jaskier hadn’t asked for a last name. For family life. He hadn’t checked for a wedding band.</p><p>
  <i>Geralt.</i>
</p><p>Had to be Polish, Jaskier thought. He smiled and shook his head, eventually setting himself in motion to return the chair at his door back inside the room. He drew on his coat and turned out the lights. </p><p>Jaskier had just pulled out of the school’s lot to make his way when he saw two figures walking beneath the street lights toward the train station nearby. He realized belatedly it was Cirilla and Geralt, and though brief it might have been to Green Street station, he wished he could have offered them a ride.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
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        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
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    <p>
  <b>GERALT</b>
</p><p>A car would make his life easier. The same thought crossed Geralt’s mind each time he stood on the train platform at a quarter to seven in the morning, trying to make his way home from work. A car would get him places faster. It was indispensable in an emergency. He could teach Cirilla to drive, if she liked. And he could transport groceries in the trunk.</p><p>He had two bulging Whole Foods bags today, with groceries and candy, secured in one hand, and his backpack with clothes slung over another shoulder. When his morning replacement came Geralt didn’t bother to change. His security uniform attracted less attention than he did in general. Dressed like this, cops patrolling train stations and streets didn’t leer at him, or pull up slowly for no reason.</p><p>The train ride to Forest Hills was swift. He found a bus 34E waiting at the deserted station and was home within fifteen minutes. Door to door on a regular day, it took Geralt an hour to get to work using public transit. But coming back, especially on a Saturday, was usually less of a hassle. Geralt crossed into the community complex and checked his mailbox, adding anything he’d missed in previous days to his stack of groceries.</p><p>The apartment was quiet when he entered. Geralt went to the kitchen, leaving the mail on the messy table, and put away the groceries. He checked on Cirilla and found her fast asleep in her room. Geralt did own a truck back when they first met. Roach had helped him secure it years ago and it had been good to him. Geralt sold it once he was faced with either keeping the vehicle, or a roof over Cirilla’s head.</p><p>He retreated to his room to strip out of his uniform and crash. Later, he awoke to the sound of music coming from Cirilla's earbuds. It was just past noon. He pulled himself out of bed to shower, shaving the ashen stubble on his jaw when he finished. Geralt appraised his reflection in the mirror. Eerie golden eyes stared tiredly back at him and his long, damp hair was at his shoulders.</p><p>Geralt pulled the mirror back and got out his clippers. He gave himself an undercut, shaping up the sides, and removed some length from the rest. Unwilling to part with all his hair just yet, he tied up the rest in a bun and gathered the bath mats.</p><p>Saturdays at their place were spent cleaning. Cirilla had already taken care of the shower and her room was tidy. Geralt usually handled the toilet, sink, and the floors, bagging dirty laundry as he went. He entered the kitchen to find her having lunch, engrossed in her phone.</p><p>“Any more laundry than what I found in your bin?” he asked her.</p><p>“Nope,” she replied without looking up. “That’s everything.”</p><p>“Alright.” He made himself some coffee and sorted through the mail. “This is for you,” Geralt said, gesturing with a little card. “From your cousin.”</p><p>Cirilla shot up and went over to happily snatch the Halloween greeting card. “I miss Dara,” she lamented. “When can we see them again?”</p><p>“Ask Roach,” Geralt said. “Be easier if they came down to visit.” </p><p>They lived all the way in New Hampshire and Geralt had only made the trip by car. But he knew Cirilla enjoyed Dara’s company. He was Roach’s step son and perhaps one of Ciri’s closest friends. Cirilla went to find a magnet for the card, adjusting it on the fridge. Geralt continued sifting through the paper mess on their kitchen table, tearing old bills, and stacking those that needed his attention. </p><p>Their recertified rent was due at the start of the next month. Geralt was a payment late again, despite his best attempts, though he was counting on a few extra shifts during the holiday season to help smooth that over. Considering the alternative was showing up in court, which, as a mutant, was asking for trouble, Geralt didn’t have much of a choice. </p><p>A letter addressed to Cirilla caught his attention and he tore it open. It was from the health center.</p><p>“You have your physical coming up in two weeks,” Geralt informed her. </p><p>He’d have to request a day off to take her. It was scheduled for the afternoon, which was fine with Geralt, who didn’t want her missing school.</p><p>“Did you get candy?” Cirilla asked, oblivious to what he’d just said.</p><p>Geralt gestured toward the unpacked Whole Foods bag. It was partly for the trick-or-treaters and mostly for Ciri. They never gave it all away and it lasted them months.</p><p>“Yes!” she cheered, and busied herself with transferring the goodies into a Halloween themed basket.</p><p>“I got a pumpkin, too,” Geralt said. </p><p>The ensuing dramatic gasp delighted him more than he thought it would. “Where is it? Are you going to carve it? I want to make the face.”</p><p>Geralt put down the mail and went to the low cabinet where he’d tucked the pumpkin. He pulled it out with one hand and raised it semi-triumphantly. “Do we still have those LED candles from last year?”</p><p>“Yeah, I know where they are. Can I see it?”</p><p>Geralt passed on the pumpkin and Cirilla had to hold it in both hands, the weight almost bringing her down with it. It pulled his mouth up in a half smile, just seeing her trying to lug the thing around in her skinny arms.</p><p>“Careful,” he said. “I’ll carve it out after I put in the wash.”</p><p>“Okay!”</p><p>He sorted through the rest of the mail, making two piles, the bills higher than Cirilla related things. Geralt marked her doctor’s appointment on the calendar, telling her to put it in her phone as well, though he doubted she heard him. He finished his coffee and grabbed his jacket and wallet to take the laundry out. The subsidized housing community where they lived had laundromats within walking distance, because the units were not equipped with washers-dryers. He loaded up the card, put in the wash, and returned to pumpkin carving duty with his kid.</p><p>Their doorbell rang a few times that evening. Ciri got it each time. Geralt could hear her from the couch, cooing at children and complimenting their costumes as she gave out candy. He was tired, having spent the afternoon vacuuming, folding laundry, and making their dinner. Cirilla had wanted spaghetti and meatballs which, contrary to what anyone might have believed, was rare. Being a butcher put them both off to meat most of the time, but once in a while it was requested. Geralt was no cook, but he did his best. Ciri was usually not picky, and Geralt was generally glad he could put food on the table.</p><p>“They still coming?” he asked the next time she shut the door.</p><p>“Fewer than before,” Cirilla replied, digging in the basket for Kit Kats. She plopped down on the carpet in front of him. “Want some?”</p><p>“Sure.” Geralt accepted the offering and wolfed it down in one bite.</p><p>“Did you cut your hair?” Cirilla said, her mouth full when she looked him over as if for the first time.</p><p>Geralt turned to one side, showing her. “Shortened.”</p><p>“It looks pretty cool, actually.”</p><p>“It does?”</p><p>“Yeah, but you’ll have to trim the back down more when it grows in too much, or it’ll look awkward.” Cirilla considered his appearance quietly then said, “I can help you with it.”</p><p>“Sure. If you want.”</p><p>“You know,” she said, considering him from another angle, and Geralt’s expression softened from her rare liveliness. He suspected the candy as the culprit. “This is probably the one night you can go outside with your real eyes out, and people would actually think you’re just wearing contacts.”</p><p>Geralt hummed. She made a good point. “Sad, but true.”</p><p>“Have you ever tried it?”</p><p>“Not on Halloween,” he said, choosing his words. “When I was younger… a long time ago, I didn’t always have to hide.”</p><p>“You were around mutants?”</p><p>Geralt shook his head. “I hunted. I was on the road a lot.”</p><p>“Hunted, like animals?”</p><p>“Monsters.” He leveled Cirilla flatly. She didn’t know much about his past, shrouded in so much darkness, and he still wasn’t sure how much he should tell her. But he made a point never to lie to her when she asked him questions. They lived in a dishonest enough world as it were. “Sometimes I was around mutants, though. Worked alongside them now and then. Before so many of us went into hiding.”</p><p>Too many mutant lives had been lost, out of fear, at the hands of humans. There were still some who walked the earth without disguises, many of them insurgents. The government required all mutants to register and be part of their databases, but the law was difficult to enforce. It was a risk Geralt was willing to take, though it plagued him constantly. </p><p>This was the only way he could think to keep Cirilla safe in a world that saw them as sub-human. He did not want her becoming some kind of guerrilla before she was old enough to make her own decisions. He wanted her to be happy and protected, to be a kid with at least a few good memories, but he was aware it was at the risk of her dormant powers exposing them both one day.</p><p>“I wish we didn’t have to hide who we are,” Cirilla said. “It would make everything so much easier.”</p><p>“It would,” Geralt agreed. A car, and not being a mutant, would make their lives a lot less complex. “I’m going to sleep. Try not to eat all the candy.”</p><p>Cirilla nodded. “Goodnight, Geralt.”</p><p>“Goodnight, kid.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Geralt requested a day off from Whole Foods early when the new week began. He was on good terms with his manager and could find coverage for one day, so the process was relatively painless. Cirilla had started being tutored after school in Algebra and Spanish a while ago, which meant she didn’t always come by for something to eat. Geralt didn’t mind, as long as she texted him her whereabouts. He worried when she didn’t text.</p><p>She called him out of the blue that afternoon, just before his two o’clock shift was due to start, saying she had a newspaper club after tutoring, and would come up to Blaviken for dinner during his break.</p><p>“Okay, kiddo. I gotta clock in,” Geralt said. “See you in a couple hours.”</p><p>Geralt eased on his uniform and applied eye drops to last him for a bit. He wore the Whole Foods cap and took his place at the counter to begin servicing customers. There weren’t too many slow days and this certainly wasn’t one of them. On the upside, time tended to fly when it was busier, faces looking the same after a few hours.</p><p>“Next.” Geralt checked the meats on display for anything needing to be replaced until the patron approached. “Hi, sir. How may I help you today?”</p><p>“Yes, hello, I’m not too sure what I’m looking for, actually.” The customer eyed the meats on display with a degree of trepidation Geralt had seen before. </p><p>“Do you want to eat beef, pork, lamb, or poultry?” Geralt asked.</p><p>“Beef. Definitely. I’m making a steak for my friend,” he replied. “She wants filet mignon.”</p><p>“Alright. How do you plan to cook? Grill? Pan sear?”</p><p>A blank look crossed the man’s face and he gazed at Geralt for the first time. “What do you suggest?”</p><p>“Searing in a pan then transferring to the oven might be easier, if it’s your first time,” Geralt said. “How many ounces?”</p><p>The customer looked at Geralt as if he was speaking an alien language. Unable to decipher the expression, Geralt asked, “Is it just for you and your friend?”</p><p>“Y-Yes.”</p><p>“I’ll be right back.” </p><p>A pound was more than enough. Geralt cut it up into two six ounce portions to make it easier for the man and came back. He could feel the customer staring, somewhat unnervingly, at him. He wore his contacts, so that couldn’t be it. Acting like he didn’t notice, he placed the packaged meat on the counter scale to weigh it a final time. </p><p>“Geralt?” the patron spoke up in a tentative tone.</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Geralt answered instinctively, only to find the customer’s expressive eyes appraising him expectantly. “Is one pound not en--”</p><p>“Geralt, it’s me.” The man smiled. Geralt heard the lilt of his accent before his mind processed an identity. “Jaskier. Uh, you know, the music teacher at Cirilla’s…”</p><p>Geralt’s frown relaxed with recognition, mild guilt quickly following. “Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”</p><p>“I noticed that.” Jaskier smiled forgivingly. “It’s alright. Parent-teacher night was weeks ago.”</p><p>Right. The cute music teacher, now looking somewhere north of amused and slightly offended. Geralt silently cursed his preoccupied mind for not recognizing him sooner.</p><p>“How are you?” he felt the need to ask.</p><p>“I’m well, actually,” Jaskier said cheerfully. “I was in the area in a bit of a pinch and remembered there’s a Whole Foods here. But it’s great to see you! When you said you were a butcher at Blaviken I didn’t realize it was in here.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Geralt wasn’t sure if Jaskier was enthusiastic to see him, or just a cheerful person. What he knew was that the music teacher was impeccably dressed and coiffed, in his sleek coat and leather gloves. Geralt could feel every stain on his uniform and every wrinkle in his shirt. “So, one pound okay for you?”</p><p>“Oh. Yes, sorry.” Jaskier reached for the packaged meat and tucked it in his basket. “I probably shouldn’t hold up the line, should I?” When Geralt didn’t say anything, he went on to add, “You must have a break at some point. Shall we catch up then?”</p><p>“Uh,” Geralt sighed, briefly closing his eyes. “I can’t. Ciri’s coming by for dinner. It’s kind of our thing.”</p><p>“Ah. Yes. Of course. Right, well, when you get off, then?”</p><p>“I got another job I go to, right after this one. Overnight.”</p><p>Geralt looked away a moment, annoyed to have revealed that and turned down the offers so quickly. </p><p>“Right. Speaking of Cirilla, is she coming on the hiking field trip?” Jaskier, despite the disappointment on his face, seemed like he hadn’t committed to leaving just yet. The other butchers were staring.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Geralt admitted. “What day is it again?”</p><p>“The tenth. In two weeks.”</p><p>“She has a doctor’s appointment that day. I’m taking her,” Geralt said. </p><p>“In the morning?”</p><p>“Afternoon.” Geralt paused. “I’ll ask her again if she’s interested in the hike. It’s Blue Hills, right?”</p><p>“Right.” </p><p>Blue Hills was just around the health center where her primary care doctor practiced. Geralt thought it might be slightly more convenient than coming all the way from her school in JP, but he wouldn’t make her go hiking. </p><p>“I’ll see what she thinks,” Geralt said. “Might be fun.”</p><p>“Certainly! I’m chaperoning,” Jaskier explained, “and I encourage you to as well, if you’re so inclined, and if it’s convenient for you, of course. I’d be happy to give a lift from school if needed.”</p><p>The ride was generous of Jaskier, useful, especially after the trip. It would be tough with his overnight security schedule, and Geralt highly doubted he’d have it in him to make it. But he had to say one nice thing. The line for him was getting long and the other butchers were huffing not very subtly.</p><p>“Sure. I’ll talk to Ciri.”</p><p>Jaskier smiled like he couldn’t help it even if he tried. “Marvelous. See you soon, then, Geralt.”</p><p>“Have a nice night.” Geralt watched him leave, then welcomed the next customer. “How are you, ma’am? How may I help you?” </p><p>He looked over once, very briefly, in the direction the music teacher had gone, and caught Jaskier turning back to the meat department, for a final look in Geralt’s direction.</p><p>Beside him, the other butchers shook their heads. Just another day of working with Geralt.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>CIRILLA</b>
</p><p>Her Algebra tutor was cute, but her Spanish tutor was friendlier. They were both juniors at the high school and Cirilla was fairly confident their paths never crossed. Marilka was more apt to want to talk a few minutes before helping Ciri with her Spanish homework. She had a little brother repeating a grade in Cirilla’s class, she said. Adonis.</p><p>“Does he go by ‘Adon’?” Ciri asked.</p><p>“He does.”</p><p>“I think he has Band,” Cirilla mentioned. “With Mr. Pankratz.”</p><p>“You take music?” Marilka looked surprised.</p><p>“Oh, no,” Ciri quickly shook her head. “I take Art. I just go to the music room once in a while. A bunch of other students do, too.”</p><p>“You guys should hang out! Granted, he is kind of a dork and despite being his sister, I don’t want to hang with him,” Marilka cleared up, in the sarcastic tone that always made Ciri smile a little. “But he’s a nice kid. Watch out for some of his sophomore friends though, especially that Cahir kid and his pals. I think they might be demons.”</p><p>Ciri giggled and pulled out her Spanish homework. The next day at lunch, Mr. Pankratz gave her one of his lively, smiley greetings when she entered the music room, and on cue, some of the gathered students said ‘hi’ to her.</p><p>“Hi guys,” Ciri said, searching their faces. “Hey Adon.”</p><p>“Oh, hey!” Adon had a mop of dark brown hair over his forehead and down to his shoulders, that reminded Ciri a little bit of Geralt, and Marilka’s playful eyes. “Wanna hear some tunes?”</p><p>“Sure.” Ciri put her bag down close to Mr. Pankratz’s desk as usual. He smiled briefly at her and returned to typing on his computer while enjoying a colorful salad. She went over to the students with her lunch, and just sat watching them for a bit. Adon had an acoustic guitar which he plucked and strummed pretty decently. </p><p>“Cool,” she said, anytime he looked over to her for a reaction.</p><p>The lunch period was over before Ciri, too engrossed in the music, even touched one of her English class books.</p><p>“Are you coming on the field trip?” Adon asked her.</p><p>“The hiking thing?” she said and wrinkled her nose. Geralt had asked her about it a few days ago and Ciri told him she was not interested. “I don’t think so. Too cold.”</p><p>“You don’t like the cold?”</p><p>Cirilla shook her head, looking at the lopsided smile on Adon’s mouth.</p><p>“You won’t be cold while we’re hiking though.” </p><p>“Adon!” cracked a voice. Adon gave a flip of his hair toward it, and raised a hand in greeting. Cirilla looked over to see some sophomores waiting: a tall, lean-faced boy with a scowl, whom she’d seen once in a while in the music room, and a pretty, haughty looking girl Ciri could only presume to be his girlfriend. They both glared at her for keeping Adon. Marilka’s words returned to her. It would take some snooping on socials, but Ciri was pretty sure this was Cahir.</p><p>“You should come,” Adon said hastily, bringing her attention back to him, “it’s going to be fun. If you get too cold, you can wear my jacket.”</p><p>A tiny smile touched Ciri’s mouth at that. “I’ll think about it.”</p><p>“Think fast, Cereal!” Adon said, and took off down the hall to rejoin his friends.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Most of the weekend was spent roleplaying. Cirilla wrote two different characters. A young, revenge seeking kick-ass princess, whose entire kingdom had fallen to ruin, and the outwardly rough but caring knight loyal to her house. Some days she had more muse to write the grouchy knight than the princess. Something about his strong and silent facade attracted all kinds of writing partners, a popularity Cirilla found a little weird sometimes but welcomed nonetheless.</p><p>Just after she hit ‘send’ on a fairly lengthy reply, a knock met her closed door. Only two people lived in the apartment, but ever since they moved to this place, Geralt was diligent in giving her space and privacy. It wasn’t a rule, but Ciri appreciated it. He’d told her she was responsible for keeping the room tidy though, which wasn’t a problem for her. They hadn’t always been able to afford having a room for each one of them. Geralt used to sleep on the couch in their old one bedroom, where they shared the closet, and they’d lasted almost two years there. Sometimes Ciri believed he’d probably never really lived in a space as large as their current two bedroom.</p><p>“Come in,” she said, swiveling in her chair. He appeared in the doorway. “Hi Geralt.”</p><p>“I made dinner,” Geralt announced.</p><p>“Already?” Ciri checked the time, but then she remembered it was Sunday.</p><p>“I’m working tonight.” He made his way inside, eyes sweeping briefly around her room, and sat on her bed. “What are you up to?”</p><p>“Just writing,” Ciri replied.</p><p>“You like to write, huh?”</p><p>“It’s fun. It takes a lot of work though.” She minimized her current tab, because the ads on the site tended to be a little spicier than she wanted Geralt seeing, and kept a chat server screen up. “Hey, do you think you can sign a school form for me?”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>Ciri went through her bag, feeling bad for asking, but she had put back unused pocket money in Geralt’s wallet when he got in from work yesterday.</p><p>“Remember that hiking thing?”</p><p>Geralt frowned at her, taking the form. “I thought you said you didn’t want to go.”</p><p>“I… kind of changed my mind,” Ciri replied. “You don’t mind, right?”</p><p>“No. You have your physical on the same day, around two in the afternoon.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”</p><p>“I took the day off for it. Do you know how to get to your doctor’s?” he asked her.</p><p>“From Forest Hills, yeah.” It was the nearest terminal station from her school. “I’m not sure about this Blue Hills Reservation place, though.” Ciri chewed thoughtfully on her lip. “But I think there will be buses taking us there and back to school.”</p><p>“What time does the trip end?” Geralt inquired.</p><p>“I think one thirty, like school. Maybe earlier.”</p><p>He made a stern sound, a cross between a hum and a grunt, which meant he would have preferred if she was certain. Geralt didn’t like to be late to her appointments. He’d said he wasn’t a fan of the wait, even after one arrived, but Ciri knew it was because health centers and other government places put him on edge. He was always looking over his shoulder, keeping his face as neutral as possible under those caps.</p><p>“I don’t have to go,” Ciri said, discouraged. “I can just go to school and meet you at the doctor’s, or something.”</p><p>“No, you can go if you want. I’ll pick you up from there. Give me a pen.” Geralt scoured the second page of the form and signed. Cirilla saw his golden eyes flicker over something else, a new thought occurring to him. “Actually, why don’t I come on the trip?”</p><p>“What?!” Ciri said, more loudly than intended.</p><p>Geralt looked up, startled. “To chaperone,” he clarified.</p><p>“What about your sleep?” Ciri tried. “Don’t you get in from work around seven in the morning? You’ll be so tired.”</p><p>“You don’t want me to come,” he said, slightly amused.</p><p>“N-no, it’s not that. I just thought sleeping, you know, is very important, Geralt. I mean, you’re always telling me to try to get enough sleep. Practice what you preach, right?”</p><p>Ciri knew her tone hadn’t been convincing when Geralt chuckled for the first time in a week.</p><p>“You’re still growing,” he pointed out. “Besides, this isn’t about my sleep. It’s about the reason you changed your mind.”</p><p>“Ugh, Geralt.” He left her no choice. Ciri tried to snatch the form out of his hands. His instincts were quicker, and he raised it out of her reach. “Give it back.”</p><p>“It’ll make taking you to your doctor’s appointment easier,” he said rationally. “We’ll take the buses over--”</p><p>“I can take the bus by myself.”</p><p>“In case the trip is longer than you expect, I’ll pull you out early--”</p><p>“I can leave early--”</p><p>“It’s not like I want to chaperone.”</p><p>“Then, why do you still have the form?” Ciri took to her feet when he did, and she jumped to get it back. Even at fourteen, she only came up to about his chest. Geralt laughed at her attempts. Ciri climbed on her bed, and he swept the form away again. “Geralt, you’re so annoying. Give it back.”</p><p>“I’m coming on the trip.” He gave a surprised grunt-laugh when she jumped on his back to coil around him. Her weight seemed inconsequential and Ciri thought she may as well have been a rag doll. “Nice try, but it’s not going to work.”</p><p>“You need your sleep, Geralt,” Cirilla said. </p><p>“I’ll survive.”</p><p>She huffed in defeat, her head dropping on his shoulder. “Fine. Check the box, sign the line, and give up the cash, old man. But if you start getting cranky that day, I’m acting like I don’t know you.”</p><p>“Deal.” Geralt traversed over to his room, Ciri still on his back, and got his wallet for the cash. “Here you go.”</p><p>Ciri hopped down to retrieve the amended form and the money. “Thank you,” she said cheekily.</p><p>“Hm. Go wash up for dinner.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>She was cutting it close returning the form. Ciri was starting to believe she had missed the deadline to sign up for the trip. She decided to ask Mr. Pankratz about it, as he seemed to have all the answers to everything, and he was the easiest teacher to approach at school. Unfortunately the music room was closed because he had cafeteria duty, so Ciri had to await his return and risk being late to study hall, to talk to him.</p><p>She found him leaning by the entrance of his room a few minutes after the bell rang, waiting for his pupils to arrive.</p><p>“Pipe down gentlemen. Go on, get to class now,” Mr. Pankratz called out to idling students.</p><p>Ciri went up to him and waited for him to actually see her, considering his distraction.</p><p>“Oh, hello!” he said with a smile. “How was the library today?”</p><p>“It was good. Um, Mr. Pankratz, I want to go on the hiking field trip,” Ciri said quickly. “Is it too late to return the form?”</p><p>“Yes, I’m afraid the deadline was a few days ago,” he said apologetically. She must have looked really disappointed, because Mr. Pankratz pursed his lips with a sigh, then said, “But, do you know what, have you got the form all sorted with you?”</p><p>“I do,” Ciri said, pulling her bag from her shoulder.</p><p>“Right. Come with me, then, I’ll take it,” he said, “and I’ll see what I can do for you, alright?”</p><p>“Okay.” Ciri was relieved. Most other teachers would tell her to scat and get to class. She followed him to his desk while students entered the room, going to their places and instruments. Mr. Pankratz bid them to settle down quietly, but they didn’t seem to be listening. Ciri quickly pulled out the form and money Geralt had given her. </p><p>Mr. Pankratz took it, withdrew a thick folder from his locked drawer with BLUE HILLS written across in marker, and Ciri saw him paper clip the money to her form.</p><p>“Very good. Let me just double check you’ve got it signed…” he said. Looking things over, he halted to express: “Oh! Geralt is coming to chaperone!”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ciri cringed. “I couldn’t talk him out of it. He seemed pretty adamant.”</p><p>“Did he?” Mr. Pankratz looked surprised, and suddenly more smiley than usual.</p><p>“Yeah. Sorry…”</p><p>“Oh, not at all. That’s, uh, that’s good. I’m sure it’ll be no problem.” Mr. Pankratz added the form in, shut the folder and tucked it back in his drawer, locking it swiftly. “No problem at all.”</p><p>Ciri hoped, for her sake, the teacher was right.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>JASKIER</b>
</p><p>A crimson Hyundai Santa Fe Sport pulled into the Blue Hills Reservation parking lot and took the first available spot. The buses transporting students from school had already gone. Jaskier passed them on his way, reminding him he was running late. It wasn’t every day he couldn’t decide what to wear. He was initially going to trust whatever was on hand to get him through the day. But that was before he learned a certain someone was going to chaperone along with other parents. </p><p>Truth be told, he abhorred unfashionable stores like REI and Patagonia, until he went to both, desperately trying to get the clerks to understand he wanted to look stylish while hiking, without necessarily looking like he’d tried too hard. The result was a Jack Wolfskin down jacket in soft highlighter yellow, blue pants with a nice fit where it counted, and hiking boots. He’d layered up underneath accordingly and filled a backpack with forms, first aid kits, and other little safety bits and bobs. The hike was being professionally guided with lots of activities, but chaperones had to be ready for anything.</p><p>The music teacher hopped out of his car and slung the bag over his shoulders, fastening every clip across his chest. He may not have been a fan of hiking, but he looked every bit the part. It was somewhat overcast but there was no snow in the forecast. Jaskier wondered how long that would last, knowing how fickle Boston weather was. Once, in the middle of a hot July afternoon, it had grown pitch dark and hailed hard enough to shatter his windshield, all for about five minutes before the world went right back to being summer. Jaskier vowed never to trust weathermen or his phone’s predictions again.</p><p>After a final check for his reflection in his windows, Jaskier hastened toward the gathering of high school students and chaperones. He caught up with Lazlo, apologizing for the delay, only to learn he was the last person to arrive.</p><p>“We’re organizing the students with the trail guides,” Lazlo said, looking over to the crowd of high-schoolers. “Then we’ll coordinate the chaperones.”</p><p>“Understood,” Jaskier replied. He followed the man’s gaze searchingly. There were only a handful of parent chaperones, most of them still idling by their teenagers. It didn’t take long for Jaskier to see him.</p><p>Geralt stood by Cirilla, holding her bag open while she dug through. Her search yielded a tiny, clear bottle which she held up to her guardian. Jaskier watched Geralt precisely apply three drops in each eye and make Ciri pull something else out of her bag. A hat, to keep her head warm, and gloves. She entrusted Geralt her bag, they hugged sideways swiftly, and parted. Jaskier lowered his gaze, trying not to smile, their little interaction warming his heart. </p><p>Resisting the urge to call out, he came around to the edge of the chaperone group and raised a hand instead, smiling when Geralt’s dark gaze settled acknowledgingly on him. The man drew on his daughter’s backpack and approached.</p><p>“Good morning, Geralt,” Jaskier said. “Nice to see you were able to join us.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Geralt was clad in all black, including the New England Patriots beanie covering his head. It occurred to Jaskier he hadn’t seen the man’s hair color, though judging from the stubble growing on his square jaw, he thought he could guess it. “Cirilla wasn’t thrilled.”</p><p>“Nonsense,” Jaskier dismissed. “I think it’s lovely to see you. Nice bag.”</p><p>Geralt grunted. For all the macabre of his attire, Cirilla’s bag was a burst of colorful yellow flowers, and it negated any seriousness there might have been left to him. Jaskier, who thought it was positively endearing, looped his thumbs in the straps of his own and tried to school his stance out of looking too much like a crushing teen girl’s.</p><p>“So, how are you?” Jaskier asked, confident he wouldn’t get another word out of the man unless he tried.</p><p>“Tired.”</p><p>“Ah, well, it is early, isn’t it?” </p><p>“I came from work,” Geralt answered matter-of-factly.</p><p>Jaskier’s mouth opened and shut. He’d forgotten Geralt worked two consecutive jobs. </p><p>“Right,” he breathed apologetically. “You must be exhausted. Can I get you a coffee? Breakfast, maybe? I’m sure the welcome center’s got food and other things.”</p><p>Geralt frowned as though the attention was unwanted. “I’m good. Thanks. How are you?”</p><p>“Oh, you know. Ready to hike.” When his little laugh wasn’t answered in kind, Jaskier swallowed it back and foolishly said, “Good. I’m really good, yeah. Just, quite good.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Alright, chaperones if I could have your attention, please?” Lazlo called out. “The students are with the guides, we’ll be moving out just as soon as they’re partnered up for the trail. In the meantime, we’re going to organize ourselves similarly and assign positions.”</p><p>Jaskier straightened his stance and noticed an older woman inching closer to them. She stood on Geralt’s other side while Lazlo said parents could buddy up with each other, and the odd person could join a teacher’s pair.</p><p>“I guess you’re a teacher, huh?” the woman asked Geralt in a playful tone. “Or a coach, probably.”</p><p>Jaskier turned so quickly at that, it could have hurt his neck in another circumstance.</p><p>“I’m a guardian,” Geralt responded calmly, “and--”</p><p>“And unfortunately, madam,” Jaskier cut in smoothly, “he’s already got a partner, I am so, very sorry. Right, Geralt?”</p><p>Geralt stared in silence.</p><p>“Right, that’s settled then,” Jaskier said, “Lazlo! We’re set here, thank you. Myself and Mr. ... erm--”</p><p>“Rivia,” Geralt confirmed.</p><p>Lazlo gave them a thumbs up, making a note in his clipboard, and the woman scurried away when she saw the triumphantly smug wave Jaskier sent her. Geralt waited until they were all set up and ready to move out to reveal to Jaskier, “I was planning to be the odd parent out.”</p><p>And Jaskier, after losing function of his legs for all of three seconds to gape, followed with a smile on his face.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>As much as hiking was not his activity of choice in any season, Jaskier found he could bear it with someone like Geralt for company. Admittedly the man was not very talkative and Jaskier put a great deal of effort in getting anything out of him. But it was well worth it. He loved the sound of Geralt’s voice and wished he could lay his head down on the man’s chest. While it was wishful thinking, it sustained Jaskier in their tense moments of silence.</p><p>“So, Geralt,” Jaskier said for what felt like a countless time. “You’re a busy man working so often. When do you have a day off?”</p><p>“Weekends. Saturdays, usually.”</p><p>“How do you normally spend them?”</p><p>“Chores. Laundry, food. That kind of thing.”</p><p>“Of course. The neverending parental duties.” Jaskier cleared his throat. “A-And you have family? In the area?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Jaskier didn’t know if that was for family, or the area. He reconsidered his phrasing and said, “But you must have help, surely, rearing up Cirilla? Wife? Girlfriend?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Promising answer, but it didn’t confirm the man was available. Jaskier briefly squeezed his eyes shut and bit the bullet. “Boyfriend? H-husband?”</p><p>The question earned him Geralt’s dark eyes. “It’s just me,” he said. “She’s got her cousin, my sister’s kid, up in Portsmouth. We see them once in a while.”</p><p>“I see.” Single, then. A great sign. “Lovely place, New Hampshire. Probably a lot more like this in some parts, than the rest of this city, huh?”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“So, Geralt--” Jaskier began with another tentative smile, only for the other man to round slowly on him. They came to a halt, face to face.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt said uncomfortably. “Look, I’m not good at… talking.”</p><p>“Oh, r-right. Sorry, I must be bothering you.”</p><p>“No. It’s not that.”</p><p>“Then?” Jaskier tried to catch his eye when Geralt seemed unwilling to give it. </p><p>“How about I ask the questions?”</p><p>Jaskier wanted to get to know the man a little bit better, given this rare opportunity. If this was what it took, so be it. “Alright, sure. Why not?” </p><p>Geralt looked relieved. They began to walk again and Jaskier asked him to fire away.</p><p>“Your accent,” Geralt declared, and stopped there.</p><p>“Yes?” Jaskier shot him a sideways glance. “That’s not a question, you know.”</p><p>“I know,” he said. “Just. It’s nice. Where is it from?”</p><p>A smile settled on Jaskier’s face at Geralt’s choice of a first question. “From Ireland,” he replied.</p><p>“Dublin?”</p><p>“That’s right. Dún Laoghaire, to be exact.”</p><p>“You live there for long?” Geralt asked, glancing back at him.</p><p>“Born and raised, though my father is Polish. I left Dún Laoghaire when I was eighteen.”</p><p>“Where did you go?”</p><p>“A few places,” Jaskier admitted. “I wanted to study music and did so in Vienna for a number of years. Then, I went wherever the winds took me. Mainly across Europe and in the East.”</p><p>“What brought you to Boston? The culture?”</p><p>“No,” Jaskier chuckled. The Irish presence in the city had little to do with his relocation. He considered whether to reveal it and decided it couldn’t hurt. “I came for love. And for music. I was in a band and my girlfriend at the time wanted to live here.”</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“Hah, Geralt, for one who isn’t good at ‘talking’ you’ve sure got questioning sorted, haven’t you?”</p><p>Geralt quieted at that and set his attention calculatingly on the students striding up ahead.</p><p>“I was only teasing,” Jaskier assured him, worried his words had been taken the wrong way. Seeing as Geralt wanted to know, he saw no reason not to answer. “We didn’t last much longer when I realized she, too, moved for love of another. My band also broke up, so I started teaching.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, meeting his eye.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“There must have been others.”</p><p>For a moment Jaskier didn’t know whether to take it as a compliment or not. </p><p>“There are always others,” he supplied after a moment. “That has never been a problem.”</p><p>“What is the problem?”</p><p>“I’m still trying to work that out, to be honest. I’ve gotten as far as figuring either no one wants to commit honestly anymore, or no one will commit to me.” Jaskier grimaced. “Seeing as the first is a gross presumption, and the second is my consistent experience, I can’t seem to decide. It’s probably me.”</p><p>“Have you talked to anyone?” Geralt said, his tone growing unexpectedly gentle. “Like a therapist.”</p><p>Jaskier paused, smiled wistfully, and Geralt halted. It was a good thing they were meant to chaperone the rear of the group. “Do you know what, I haven’t. Not for any particular reason, either. You aren’t the first to ask, though.”</p><p>“Are you considering it?”</p><p>“No.” Jaskier looked up at him. “Though perhaps I should. I’m afraid love is not the only thing that needs addressing in this mess I call my life.”</p><p>They resumed walking and Geralt was silent a few more moments before asking, “What else needs addressing?”</p><p>Jaskier flushed. The man was right, this was going far better than his own attempts, though admittedly it was rather one sided. It occurred to him Geralt was easy to talk to, despite how serious the topics. </p><p>“My music is suffering,” he replied.</p><p>“What’s the problem?”</p><p>“It’s been years since I’ve made anything new,” Jaskier said. He felt troubled when he added, “I’m involved in the music scene here, I help friends record demos, I listen to everything. But I can’t seem to get anything out, for myself.”</p><p>The silence within troubled him, confirming his inability to create, when it used to be so easy for so many years. A way of existing he'd once relied so heavily upon to get him through the complexities of life was now elusive, and it felt like he was nothing without it.</p><p>“Did that start when the band broke up?” Geralt raised. “And when that woman left?”</p><p>Jaskier chuckled with a slight frown. “Where have you been all my life, Geralt? I don’t think I need a therapist at all because you cut no corners.”</p><p>“Answer the question,” he insisted.</p><p>“Oh, alright. Well, for the record, I left her this go round, though I suppose she was never truly mine after a certain point. We were on and off for a few years. But, yes, it all seemed to unravel around the same time. A relationship, a band, both torn asunder in seemingly the same few days.” </p><p>Jaskier turned it over in his mind, remembering the tough time, the realization he was once again left with nothing, how unsafe and unstable he’d felt. </p><p>“I told myself I’d just grit my teeth and go solo. Write an album, and spend some time actually single. Believe it or not, I haven’t been properly alone since I learned what it was to flirt.”</p><p>“I believe it.” Geralt looked at him piercingly. “How do you find yourself?”</p><p>It was a difficult question Jaskier had asked himself, the answer not always favorable. Some days were better than others. It was his self-check, to see whether he was ready to be back out there for more than a casual fuck. Last time he consulted inwardly he’d still believed himself to be a pathetic music teacher with no tangible prospects in life.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose at first I... didn’t like the person I was getting to know for the first time.”</p><p>“But you had to live with him nonetheless.”</p><p>“I did.” Jaskier carefully watched where he stepped. Geralt outstretched a hand to help, and Jaskier took it gratefully. “Which was, -- and some days, remains -- difficult. Though it is better now.”</p><p>“Sometimes it takes decades,” Geralt said gravely, taking his hand back.</p><p>Jaskier turned to him fully at that, realizing, “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” He came to a full stop, forgetting the hikers and their guides.</p><p>“In a way,” Geralt said. “But I’ve made my peace with what I am.”</p><p>Jaskier frowned. “I don’t understand.”</p><p>“It’s-- ah, fuck.” Geralt seemed as though he hadn’t meant to say what he did. “Forget it. The point is, sometimes coming to terms with who you are can take a long time. It’s a dark night of the soul. It’s like… being a ship at sea, for years, searching for the lighthouse that’ll guide you to anchor.”</p><p>Jaskier wasn’t sure he followed the metaphor, but it was oddly poetic coming from Geralt. The man was all brawn and stoicism but it seemed a wise mind was housed in him.</p><p>“A lighthouse,” Jaskier said, studying his strong face.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Have you found yours, then?”</p><p>“I have,” Geralt replied with a weary sigh. He turned to appraise the trekking students up ahead. Jaskier followed his gaze to Cirilla, chatting playfully with a long-haired boy. Adon, Jaskier seemed to recall. </p><p>Geralt walked away, leaving him behind.</p><p>“I hope I find mine, then,” Jaskier mumbled.</p><p>Geralt surprised him with how good his hearing was by calling back, “You will.”</p><p>Jaskier hastened to catch up. “So, now that you know more about me than you probably signed up for,” he chimed, “I want to know: do you play any instruments?”</p><p>“No,” Geralt snorted a laugh. </p><p>Jaskier was so startled by its perfection, his eyes went wide and his interest doubled. “If you could, what would you play?” he asked, desperate for another chuckle. They felt so good.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Oh, come on there must be something!”</p><p>“What do you play?”</p><p>“What don’t I play, is the question,” Jaskier said confidently. “Guitars, mostly: acoustic, electric, a bit of bass. Piano, keys. There’s my voice, of course.”</p><p>“You sing?” Geralt looked surprised.</p><p>“Singer-songwriter,” Jaskier said. “Though I’ve not felt like either  in ages. I am in a duo with a good friend of mine, Yen, but it’s mostly her ideas, or remixes, sometimes the odd gig at White Haus.”</p><p>“I don’t know what that is.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s a house and venue in Jamaica Plain and…” Jaskier shook his head. “You know what, never mind. I play many instruments, a bit of percussion as well. Composing has always been a strength. Until recently.”</p><p>“You probably wouldn’t want me in your band,” Geralt said.</p><p>It took Jaskier a moment to realize he was being playful. Geralt looked more awake now, more apt to actually converse. Or perhaps it was due to the relative ease Jaskier found in opening up. Banter was bound to be natural.</p><p>“Well, you’d need to decide on an instrument first, Mr. Rivia.”</p><p>“I can’t think of anything. I know you listed about five already… Maybe drums.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Maybe,” Geralt said, adding with a steady look, “Compose the rhythm.”</p><p>“Compose the rhythm.” A delighted smile came out to play on Jaskier’s face and he stood in Geralt’s way, only to be grunted at, though the sound was less irritated and more exasperated yet well-intentioned. Jaskier was being humored, he knew, and he loved it. “And what on earth does that entail, Geralt?”</p><p>Geralt sighed regretfully and Jaskier, who could hardly believe he was seeing this man coming so sweetly out of his shell, adored him immediately. To think he’d brought this out of silent, ‘I’m not good at talking’ Geralt.</p><p>“I don’t know. Sounds simple, though,” Geralt said. “Come up with the rhythm of your songs.”</p><p>“Oh, easy for you, then.” Jaskier knew Geralt could have maneuvered around him to keep hiking. The fact that he didn’t made him feel warm. “Well, rest assured I am very tempted to accept your audition, now that I’ve got more context.” </p><p>There was another small laugh from Geralt, really just a slight huff, but his eyes closed momentarily with the act of dropping his head. It dawned on Jaskier then just how truly, objectively handsome this man was.</p><p>“You may yet pull me from a dreadful hiatus, my rhythm composer,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“Maybe.” Geralt gazed at him thoughtfully. “I’m sorry to hear the music’s been tough. Sounds like this really is your calling. I believe it’ll return to you. Just don’t give up.”</p><p>The words, simple as they were, hit Jaskier hard, in a place he’d needed to hear for some time. Friends were sympathetic and he appreciated them. But for someone he didn’t know as well to put it so generously, it softened Jaskier, giving fuel to his fragile hopes and wings to his romantic nature.</p><p>For now, he managed to ask, “You know this how?”</p><p>“When you’re as old as I am,” Geralt said gravely, “some things you just know.”</p><p>“Old?” Jaskier frowned, thrown off. That was Geralt’s cue to keep walking. “Hang on, old?! Just how old are you? G-Geralt!” </p><p>Why he hadn’t asked that of Geralt earlier was beyond him. Jaskier wouldn’t get an answer today and time elapsed swiftly when they spoke on. Before either one realized it, afternoon came on and with it, the hiking trip was at an end. Jaskier couldn’t remember half the activities the students had engaged in, and he’d done no true chaperoning to save his life.</p><p>Fortunately, he’d learned enough about Geralt to confirm two things: he liked Geralt, for the way it felt like they could talk endlessly, and he wanted to see him again. And again and again and again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>GERALT</b>
</p><p>It was a ten minute ride from Blue Hills Reservation to the health center. Geralt couldn’t remember previously mentioning Cirilla’s appointment to Jaskier when the music teacher volunteered to drive them, pointing out his chaperone duties were at an end since most students were hopping on buses to go back in the high school’s direction. </p><p>From the front passenger seat, Geralt glanced at Cirilla in the rearview mirror, finding her contentedly smiling at her phone. She’d had fun on the hike. Geralt had seen her talking to a few people, one boy in particular earning her smiles, calling her Cereal. From what Geralt could overhear from afar during the hike, Ciri hadn’t seemed to mind. He felt more awake now, though he would have to take a few hours later to restore his energy before his overnight shift.</p><p>Jaskier talked the entire time they were in the car. Geralt lost track after a few minutes, mostly humming now and then. The teacher was precisely the kind of lively person that was Geralt’s perfect foil, and yet, there they were in the man’s car, already pulling up to the health center.</p><p>“This is it, then,” Jaskier said, parking, and looking through the windshield at the tall building. “And you’re both sure I can’t drive you anywhere else afterwards? It’s really no problem and I wouldn’t mind waiting.”</p><p>“That’s okay.” Geralt unclipped his safety belt. “Ciri.”</p><p>The girl looked up from her phone and did the same, snatching her bag by the handle. </p><p>“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Pankratz,” she said cheerfully.</p><p>“Oh, you’re very welcome,” Jaskier said, turning back to her with a smile.</p><p>“Yeah. Thank you, I appreciate it.” Geralt opened the door on his side once Jaskier told him not to mention it. He curled an arm over Ciri’s shoulders and they started making their way toward the building. They’d made it about halfway along the path when Geralt heard his name.</p><p>He turned to find Jaskier out from his side, looking uncertain yet determined, with an arm propped over the roof of the car. </p><p>“Go wait for me inside,” Geralt told Cirilla, when it was clear to him Jaskier was lingering for a private word.</p><p>Cirilla seemed eager for another opportunity to get back on her phone. She waved at her teacher and Geralt looked in time to catch Jaskier fondly returning the gesture. He liked that about the music teacher, how nice Jaskier was to his kid. Geralt made it up to the car and stood with his hands in his pockets, waiting for Jaskier to speak his mind.</p><p>“I was just wondering,” Jaskier said, looking embarrassed, “when I might see you again. If possible. You know, if you’d like.”</p><p>Geralt arched a brow, genuinely surprised. “You want to?”</p><p>Jaskier smiled and looked away, as though searching for the rest of his words at his feet. He raised blue eyes back toward Geralt when he found them again.</p><p>“Yes. I would love that, actually,” Jaskier said. “I know you’re very busy, but if there is any chance of us meeting again, I will take it.”</p><p>Geralt didn’t know what to say. He stood staring, thinking the matter over. Jaskier was nice, a bit of an open book, through no fault of his with those big eyes, and very sophisticated. Geralt was actually flattered, if not a little suspicious, seeing as he personally wasn’t stellar company, and Jaskier was very eloquent, intelligent, and put together.</p><p>He could have said no. In fact, he wanted to, because in his experience, people like that didn’t deliberately hang for long around people like him. They would grow weird and uncomfortable, either with the knowledge Geralt was a mutant, or with his social class. It was an experiment to them, to make themselves feel better, so they could claim in their circles they absolutely had a fellow ‘mutant friend’, as if somehow that excused them from being prejudiced.</p><p>Geralt was going to say no. But then, he remembered the music teacher knew where he worked. Besides, they’d just spent the entire morning together hiking, plus the ride to Ciri’s doctor’s office.</p><p>“Ah, <i>fuck</i>.” Geralt scowled, realizing he should have seen this coming. The run-in at the meat counter, not to mention, Jaskier had been flirting with him at every chance. Geralt was usually so perceptive, but somewhere along the way, age and perpetual exhaustion made him less aware of certain cues.</p><p>“Right.” Jaskier pursed his lips. “I’m going to take that as a ‘no, go fuck yourself Jaskier’, then. It’s probably mildly inappropriate of me to ask and likely not a good idea, is it?”</p><p>“No, wait,” Geralt quickly said. “That… came out wrong.”</p><p>“It did?” Jaskier ventured hopefully. “S-So, can I see you again?” </p><p>Geralt sighed. Why the hell not, he thought. In truth, despite his inhibitions, the lure of being around some subliminal normalcy and its privilege, the likes of which wafted off Jaskier in droves, lived in the back of his mind always. As if somehow being around the teacher would make the burden of being a secret mutant just a little easier to ignore, but never forget.</p><p>Besides, it wasn’t like he had a lot of friends, though he was old enough to realize Jaskier had a bit more than friendship on his mind. He’d have to break it to the man eventually he wasn’t looking for anything, serious or otherwise. Now wasn’t a good time. Ciri had her appointment.</p><p>“What about Tuesday next week?” Geralt suggested.</p><p>Jaskier beamed with his expressive eyes and showed his even teeth. “Any time that works for you.”</p><p>“I go on break around six thirty. Whole Foods in Blaviken.” Geralt paused. “Cirilla doesn’t come by on Tuesdays.”</p><p>“Okay, then,” Jaskier said. “Tuesday, half past six. It’s a date.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“I’ll see you then, Geralt.”</p><p>“Drive safe,” Geralt replied, waiting for Jaskier to pull away, thinking he liked another thing: the way his name sounded coming from that tongue.</p><p>He caught up to Cirilla and they made their way through the health center’s lobby.</p><p>“What was that about?” she asked Geralt when she felt the weight of his arm on her shoulders again.</p><p>“Music teacher likes me.”</p><p>“Uh-oh,” Cirilla said, earning his eyes. “That can’t be good.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“You never like anyone,” Cirilla said. She gave a mock flip of her hair and her voice took on an airiness when she said, “Except for me, because I’m adorable.”</p><p>Geralt grunted a soft chuckle and pressed the elevator button going up. Cirilla was right about that. “So is he.”</p><p>“Oooh--” she began.</p><p>“Don’t tell him I said that!”</p><p>He followed his teenager and they went up to the sixth floor to check in. Cirilla was on her phone the entire time they waited and Geralt kept his eyes ahead. The waiting room was made mostly of mothers with their children of varying ages. When a nurse called for Ciri, he rose with her and confirmed he’d be right here when she was done.</p><p>“Wash your hands first, if you need to take them out,” he said, ensuring she had her contact lens case.</p><p>Geralt had ignored the signs posted throughout the health center as they entered. Without Cirilla’s company now, they seemed more obvious. The law required mutants to register with the government. Census forms had been amended to include a new category.</p><p>Geralt was distrustful and didn’t comply, like many others trying to keep a low profile. But he knew health centers and hospitals tried any time they could to get blood samples from all patients, to the same end. In some states, they inserted tracking chips in mutants. That, and the fact that Cirilla was still a minor, was the reason he came to all of her doctor’s appointments since he became her guardian. He had to ensure she wouldn’t be profiled.</p><p>The girl emerged a while later with her natural eye color, as Geralt had expected, and a couple of forms in hand. He went to his kid, her backpack in tow.</p><p>“How did it go? You healthy?”</p><p>“Yeah, pretty much,” Cirilla replied, giving him the paperwork. “I need my flu shot and the other vaccine. The doctor also said I should do some blood tests to check for STDs.”</p><p>Geralt frowned at her. “Are you having sex?”</p><p>“Geralt,” Cirilla hissed. She looked around, her face tinting. “No. Don’t ask me that in public.”</p><p>“Then, what’s the point of this blood test?”</p><p>“I don’t know, she said it’s routine.”</p><p>“Did you tell her you’ve never been active?”</p><p>Cirilla looked ready to murder him and die of embarrassment. “Can you lower your voice please? Yes, I told her that but she said it doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“It does matter.” He looked through the remainder of the forms. Everything looked normal. The required shots, flu and HPV, made sense. The recommendations, a balanced diet, exercise, and more natural vitamin D, since she was thin, also seemed normal to Geralt. It was just the blood test which troubled him and to his wary mind, there was nothing 'routine' about it.</p><p>They went to the lab for more waiting. Geralt asked, “You don’t like having your blood drawn, do you?”</p><p>“Not really. I’m always a little faint.”</p><p>“They can do it with urine, then,” Geralt said flatly.</p><p>“Oh, my god you are so embarrassing,” Ciri murmured, hiding her face.</p><p>But Geralt wouldn’t be dissuaded. Ciri was in good health and while he wouldn’t deliberately stand in the way of confirming that, he did not trust these people with her blood. He went up to the lab counter and requested the amendment to Ciri’s testing with a straight face. They grumbled at him but it was done, and Ciri came back with a band-aid on each arm, no more.</p><p>She waited patiently for him while he settled the co-pay and finally, they left. She dozed off against him on the second bus home, tired after hiking all morning. Geralt roused her when they were one stop away from where they lived, and once they were home they both decided a nap was in order. Geralt placed the physical examination paperwork in the folder where he kept Ciri's health records, and collapsed in bed to recuperate. Just before he fell to dreams, a pair of smiling eyes alike to the sea, and a cheerful voice came to him.</p><p>
  <i>Where have you been all my life, Geralt?</i>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>On Monday, Cirilla asked him when she came by after school, to shop for some of the groceries while she was around. She needed some things so Geralt gave up the card and asked her to make a list of any heavy items she could leave to him. He got them later and stocked up the fridge when he came home the following morning. She was already gone to school by the time he arrived, but her lunch box was missing, which meant she had taken what he packed for her. </p><p>His Tuesday afternoon shift was slow. Geralt’s manager mentioned it might be worth closing up the counter early if this kind of activity continued into the evening. As the closing clerk, Geralt would handle it. All throughout his shift, he kept having the sense there was something he was forgetting. His phone buzzed around four o’clock, but it was just Cirilla letting him know she was home from tutoring. Geralt messaged her back to tell her of the groceries in the fridge, in case she got hungry. He received back a flurry of shocked emojis and a joke about how this might have been the first text of hers he’d answered, ever.</p><p>Her drama made him smile and tuck his phone back in his pocket. He wished he didn’t have to work as much so he could spend more time with her. Customers approached. Geralt washed up, put new gloves back on, and catered to them, deciding to ignore the nagging feeling. It came violently back when he saw a catalog model, with perfectly tousled hair sweeping across his forehead, trot over to the meat department a few minutes before six thirty.</p><p>“Hello Geralt!” Jaskier said, and it took everything in the Butcher of Blaviken not to curse.</p><p>“Hey.” Geralt appraised the unattainable music teacher, wondering how Jaskier somehow always looked like he’d walked casually off the page of a magazine. “You’re here.”</p><p>“Of course I am,” Jaskier said. “Don’t tell me you’d forgotten? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”</p><p>“No. Just give me a sec.” Geralt snapped off his gloves and turned to another butcher. “I’m taking my break.”</p><p>“Alright, man.”</p><p>Geralt went round to the back and removed his apron, keeping the winter hat. He was suddenly very glad he’d opted for a black sweater and jeans before leaving home for work. Most days he just so happened to look like the Yeti, though he felt decent enough tonight.</p><p>Jaskier was patiently waiting off to one side and Geralt cleared his throat when he approached. Kind blue eyes settled on him with more delight than he felt the sight of him deserved. Geralt smoothed his hands over the back of his jeans.</p><p>“Shall we?” Jaskier said.</p><p>They went to Prepared Foods and Geralt made himself a tray, apologizing for some reason, for the fact that he hadn’t eaten and needed to. “You want anything?”</p><p>“Yes, I’ve already settled for this lovely roasted vegetable grain bowl.” Jaskier raised it up for Geralt see. “May I get that for you?” he gestured to Geralt’s meal.</p><p>“You realize I work here, right?” Geralt pointed out. “Add the bowl, and whatever else you’d like. It’s my treat.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“It’s the least I can do.”</p><p>“Right. Well, thank you.” </p><p>They settled at a table not too far from the one Geralt usually shared with Cirilla. He dug in immediately, trying to maximize his break time as best he could.</p><p>“How was work?” he asked Jaskier to get him talking.</p><p>“Very good today, I suppose,” Jaskier replied. “I am preparing the Bards and Dandelions for a school event where they must perform. Always a bit painful to start, but once we bring them all together for rehearsal it gets easier.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“The usual otherwise, nothing really new to speak of.” Jaskier opened up his bowl and pushed his fork around. Geralt didn’t think he was going to eat anything. “I have to say I was looking forward to seeing you. Do you know what I realized? We haven’t got each other’s phone numbers.”</p><p>“Hm.” That would have made remembering this whole thing easier.</p><p>“And yet here we sit,” Jaskier went on, “chattering and eating away.”</p><p>Geralt looked up and found Jaskier’s gaze fastened almost studiously on him. He put down his own fork a moment and assessed the teacher. “If you want my number just ask.”</p><p>“May I have your phone number?” Jaskier quickly said.</p><p>Geralt showed a half smile. Jaskier always looked surprised whenever he did, and his pupils had a tendency to blow wide open at the same time, too.  He gestured swiftly and a sleek phone was procured. Geralt punched in his number and leaned into his seat when he gave it back to Jaskier, wondering just what he was doing with the teacher. </p><p>“Great. Perfect,” Jaskier muttered. “Wonderful. Just terrif--”</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt said, earning his attention. “How are you? Seriously. You seem a little… jittery.”</p><p>The music teacher clicked his phone shut and sighed resignedly. “I admit, I was nervous coming here.”</p><p>“For dinner at Whole Foods?” Geralt sounded skeptical.</p><p>“Don’t tease me, Geralt,” Jaskier groused softly. Geralt noticed color rising on the teacher's pale face, turning parts of it into a lovely hue. This is what he’d been trying to tell Cirilla. The music teacher was cute, in his own way, not to mention that accent, especially when he pronounced every possible sound in ‘<i>Geralt</i>’, was extremely charming. “I was, but now it seems I have no reason to be.”</p><p>“None,” Geralt assured him confidently. “You look like a million bucks. Any luck with the music?”</p><p>“Alas, no. I am afraid only God’s silence continues to reign in my mind,” Jaskier bemoaned. “But, I am hopeful things will be looking up. I… had something of a line come to me sometime last week.”</p><p>“No shit.” Geralt shoveled food in his mouth and bid Jaskier to continue.</p><p>“Oh, yes, but it’s nothing, really,” Jaskier said, finally eating.</p><p>After washing down with mineral water, Geralt said, “That’s a good sign. You should write it down, if you haven’t. I’m sure you’d rather be on tour than in the classroom.”</p><p>“Yes, well, teaching does have its advantages,” Jaskier said. “A steady income and health insurance, for one.”</p><p>Geralt grunted in agreement. “A man needs health insurance in this country more than oxygen.”</p><p>Jaskier could not agree more. “Though, I assume this, here, is your main employer? Do you get benefits?”</p><p>“I do.” Geralt started on his dessert, a bowl of mixed fruit. “It’s one of the reasons I started working here in the first place. Cirilla needed decent insurance.”</p><p>“What did you do before?”</p><p>Geralt chewed thoughtfully, finding himself picking at the food. “Construction.”</p><p>“In Boston?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Ah, the two seasons of the city,” Jaskier remarked, “winter and construction.”</p><p>Geralt looked over to Jaskier at that and cracked a smile. </p><p>“That’s very true,” he said appreciatively, and he was rewarded with another flush. All at once, the music teacher seemed more interested in fighting a smile and focusing on his food, instead of making eye-contact. “Anyway, before that,” Geralt continued, “I did mostly blue collar stuff. Lots of maintenance. Prior to all that I was on the road a lot.”</p><p>“Across the country?”</p><p>“More or less. If it wasn’t for Cirilla, I’d be in my old truck still drifting.” </p><p>Geralt was finished with his meal when he noticed Jaskier had gone quiet for some time. He looked up, worried he had broken the music teacher. The expression he found on Jaskier’s face was airy mousse, so soft on his already smoothly crafted features, he didn’t quite know what to make of it.</p><p>“You must’ve made a lot of sacrifices for her,” Jaskier said. “Raising her by yourself. The stability you bring her, and to yourself, is commendable.”</p><p>Geralt cast his gaze back on his tray.</p><p>“I’m serious, Geralt. Being a single father, working as you do, it must be hard.”</p><p>“Single mothers have it hard, too,” Geralt said soberly. “Not a lot of people praising them.”</p><p>“Fair enough.”</p><p>“But thank you. For saying that,” Geralt added, meeting Jaskier’s gaze. “Just doing right by the kid. She’s had a lot thrown at her. My job is to give her a decent, safe life, one she can enjoy until she’s old enough to make her own decisions.”</p><p>“And then?”</p><p>Geralt frowned. “And then what?”</p><p>“When Cirilla is older, what will you do then?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” He had not considered it, not when his Ciri was the whole world and not much else mattered save for making sure she was okay and had a good home. Geralt put himself aside for her, never asking anything of Cirilla, wanting only for her to grow up decently and have the opportunities he didn’t. “I haven’t really thought about it. I’ll always be there for her, though. Nothing’s gonna change that.”</p><p>The soft look returned to Jaskier. Geralt wanted to question it, but a part of him wanted to capture it, too. No one really looked at him that way. Geralt thought it was nice to be seen in a light he never painted himself, though he did not know just what went through Jaskier’s mind.</p><p>“Probably get a better job,” Geralt said after a moment.</p><p>“What?” Jaskier blinked.</p><p>“When Cirilla is older. Or anytime soon, really. She told me she wants to go to college,” Geralt said. “I can’t support that right now.”</p><p>“There are always scholarships, you know. Her grades would help there.”</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier said, “the way I see it, you’re doing everything in your power to give Cirilla the good life she so deserves. It’s going to be alright, you know.”</p><p>“How do you know?”</p><p>“Well,” Jaskier preened, his voice changing, “when you’re as old as I am…”</p><p>“What are you, thirty five?”</p><p>Jaskier sputtered. It caused another smile to start on Geralt’s face. It seemed he couldn’t master them today around Jaskier, though that little impression of him was quite good.</p><p>“Thirty three,” Jaskier corrected, “and while I’m all for a gentleman never telling, you, sir, are keeping your age a mystery.”</p><p>Geralt blinked wearily. That much was true. He checked his watch and realized his time was up. “I gotta get back to the counter.” Geralt glanced at Jaskier’s food and found it half eaten. “You going to finish that?”</p><p>“Would you like some?”</p><p>“I’m good. Thanks.”</p><p>“How about just a bite?”</p><p>“Jaskier,” he sighed.</p><p>“Oh, alright, be that way and go back to your counter then,  since it’s so much more fun than talking to boring old me.”</p><p>“It isn’t,” Geralt admitted.</p><p>Jaskier looked satisfied. “Of course, it isn’t. But I know you haven’t got much by way of time to spare. So, thank you, for meeting with me.”</p><p>“Sorry it was so short,” Geralt found himself saying. “You’re not boring.”</p><p>“That’s alright.” Jaskier looked like he wanted to add more, but he bit back the thought and closed up his bowl. “I think I’ll take this to go.”</p><p>“Alright.” Geralt took to his feet and returned his tray to stack it nearby. Jaskier followed suit and Geralt walked him to the entrance of the store. He was expecting Jaskier to, at any moment, say something. But the music teacher remained uncharacteristically quiet. It seemed almost wrong in the moment. </p><p>“Thanks for coming by,” Geralt said.</p><p>“It was my pleasure. Always great to see you.”</p><p>They stood a few moments in silence, looking each other in the face. Then, they both tried speaking at the same time.</p><p>“You first,” Geralt said.</p><p>“No, you go,” Jaskier insisted, “please.”</p><p>Geralt cleared his throat. “I was going to say have a nice night. And…” A pull worked itself into his cheek as he faltered, questioning himself. “If you want to, I don’t know, grab a drink sometime. On a weekend. Let me know.”</p><p>Jaskier smiled at Geralt and it was like watching a painting come to life.</p><p>“I will do that,” Jaskier said, as though swearing fealty. </p><p>“Okay.” Geralt could accept that much.</p><p>Jaskier reached forward and gave his arm a squeeze. “You ought to get back now.”</p><p>“Yes, I should. Alright.”</p><p>“Alright, then, Geralt. Have a pleasant evening.” The music teacher retreated, his parting gesture a wink.</p><p>“You too,” Geralt said, too softly for the departing Jaskier to hear, and he returned to the meat counter to find a grain of warmth stirring in his belly, brought to life by a wink from the bluest eye.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
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        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
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    <p>
  <b>CIRILLA</b>
</p><p>The best days were the ones which passed without her notice. Ciri awoke to a couple of messages from Adon. He was the kind of texter who seemed incapable of ending a conversation and they had been chatting since exchanging numbers. Ciri enjoyed talking to him, with his long hair and his crooked little smile, and she liked the fact that he called her ‘Cereal’. She might have resented anyone else for it, but there was nothing mean about the way Adon said it. She knew, because he’d asked at one point if she minded him calling her that, and Cirilla’s face felt warm when she shook her head. </p><p>Geralt was fast asleep by the time she went to have breakfast. He stayed that way until one in the afternoon, since it was the weekend, and then he came in her room to get her laundry and ask if she wanted lunch. He made them soup and sandwiches and then went off to do what he normally did. Their paths didn’t cross again until he laundry basket was back in her room, smelling fresh, her clothes folded and still warm. </p><p>“What do you want for dinner?” Geralt asked her. “We have shrimp and veg--”</p><p>“I want that!” Ciri said, and shot him a quick smile from her computer.</p><p>He gave one back and nodded. “Thirty minutes.”</p><p>It was dark outside, having been so since afternoon. The delicious smell of Geralt’s cooking wafted over from the kitchen after a while, and Ciri decided to take a break from RP and her computer. Adon hadn’t texted in a bit, but she knew it was because he was at his grandparents’ house with Marilka. They talked about hanging out a lot, though they both agreed it might have to be someday after school, since he lived near the airport and she was in Roslindale, well in the opposite direction.</p><p>Her phone buzzed while she put away her dry laundry. Ciri went to her bed and found a message from Roach. A smile spread across her face and an excited scream quickly followed. Around her, small objects levitated, escaping her notice. She typed excitedly back while still screaming. </p><p>Geralt burst into her room three seconds later, frowning, his gold eyes wide and anxious. Cirilla nearly jumped out of her skin because she thought Geralt had ripped the door from its hinges. She didn’t put it past him, though his presence caused a sudden clatter of the levitating objects to ensue.</p><p>“Ciri,” he said sharply. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>They stared at one another until Geralt understood she wasn’t in danger or hurt, only soft screaming at her phone. Ciri felt bad for having startled him, though it was incredible how quickly he moved.</p><p>“Auntie Roach is coming for Thanksgiving!” Cirilla, smiling happily, went to sit on her bed.</p><p>Geralt sighed so deeply, it seemed to resonate around the room. He still looked worried, but after seeing there was nothing amiss, aside from a mess Ciri would have to clean, he approached. “She tell you that?”</p><p>“She said: ‘<i>Tell Geralt Thanksgiving is at your place this year, I managed to convince the boys</i>’. Ah, I’m so excited!” Ciri looked up from her phone. “Can they come a day before and sleep over? Please?”</p><p>“Where are they going to sleep?” Geralt said wearily. He went to sit at her desk and faced her.</p><p>“Auntie Roach and Uncle Danek can have your bed, you can have my bed, Dara will sleep on the couch!”</p><p>“What about you?”</p><p>“I can sleep on the floor, it’s fine. I just want them to come a day early. Please, please, it’s going to be so much fun! They’ve never come for Thanksgiving, it’ll be so nice!”</p><p>After considering a moment, Geralt said, “Danek and Dara can have my room--” Ciri squealed with delight. “You and Roach will share, I’ll take the couch just, stop screaming, please.”</p><p>“Yay!”</p><p>“If they want to come a day early, it’s fine.”</p><p>“You’re the best, Geralt.”</p><p>He grunted in response, and Ciri hastily called her aunt back to let her know. After she hung up, Geralt said, “That means I’m getting the turkey.”</p><p>“Get the biggest one so we have lots of leftovers.”</p><p>“Fine.” He righted a snow globe at her desk and said, “It was stronger this time. Your power. Did you realize it was happening?”</p><p>“Not until you broke in here like the Kool-Aid Man,” Ciri said. Geralt leveled her blankly, like she’d spoken a dead language, so she grinned. “It kinda just happened but that’s a first for when I’m happy. It’s usually when I’m upset.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“But it hasn’t happened in a while,” Ciri said, “so you don’t have to worry.”</p><p>Geralt didn’t look convinced. She couldn’t really tell what he was thinking until he said, “Would you, at some point you’ll decide, want me to help you figure out these powers?”</p><p>“No.” Ciri shuddered. He’d asked before and she had given the same answer. “Too scary. I can’t handle it.”</p><p>“You could learn to control them. I don’t know how,” he made a face, “but you know I would do what I can to help you. If it’s what you wanted.”</p><p>“I know, Geralt, but I just want them to go away,” Ciri said. “If you can help me figure that out, then cool.” Seeing as aureate eyes stared worriedly back at her, Ciri figured it was as likely for her as it was for Geralt to be rid of abilities. “What can you do, anyway, due to your mutation? I know you’re, like, super strong and smell everything, but there’s more right?”</p><p>“I heal faster,” Geralt said. “Live longer. See in the dark. I hear… everything. Some other simple, energy stuff with my hands.”</p><p>“Oh, like magic? Is that how you make dinner?”</p><p>Geralt scoffed, shook his head and rose. “We should eat, before the food gets cold.”</p><p>Ciri hopped from her bed in agreement, though all she could talk about over dinner was their guests to come. A bit after they’d cleaned up, she went back to her computer and to texting Adon. The shower ran some time in the bathroom. A little later, Geralt came to her room and stood by the door to say, “I’m going out soon, for a couple of hours. Think you’ll be okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, for sure. Are you working extra shifts?” she asked.</p><p>“No.” He left it at that, and Ciri would have dropped it if Adon had texted her back more swiftly. The ‘no’ was final, very Geralt. He was always direct with her, more so than most parents probably should have been, but Ciri had a feeling there was more to that particular ‘no’ than he was letting on. Geralt, to her knowledge, didn’t go anywhere except for work and the laundromat, unless she had something going on.</p><p>Curious, she took to her feet and was going to his room when she encountered him shirtless in the bathroom, shaving. Ciri tilted her head at his precision.</p><p>“What chu doin’?” she said.</p><p>“Shaving.”</p><p>“On a Saturday night?”</p><p>Geralt continued in silence, cleaned up, and applied something Ciri didn’t recognize on his jaw. He then got out his clippers and put his hair up.</p><p>“Can I help?” Ciri chimed, having wanted to shape his undercut ever since he did it.</p><p>“Alright, come on.”</p><p>“How do you want it to look?”</p><p>“Just make it even,” he said, sitting on the toilet lid. “You can take out as much as you like.”</p><p>Ciri draped a towel over his shoulders with flourish and worked diligently, shearing a healthy dusting of white strands until he had a pretty decent line up going. She turned off the clippers and gave them back, satisfied with her work. Now that she wasn’t concentrating, a nice smell caught her attention. Ciri sniffed, realizing it was coming from Geralt.</p><p>“Are you wearing… cologne?” she asked, in surprise and slight horror.</p><p>“Aftershave,” he grunted, dusting his shoulders.</p><p>“Oh, aftershave.” Ciri remembered her initial quest. “Since when do you wear aftershave?”</p><p>“Since tonight.”</p><p>“What’s so special about tonight?”</p><p>Geralt grunted, put the clippers back, and apprehensively smoothed a hand over his remaining hair. When she saw him vigorously apply deodorant, Ciri’s jaw dropped, as she realized he was trying to look nice. This was easily the first time she ever saw it from him.</p><p>“Geralt?” Cirilla said aloud, following him into his room, “where are you going smelling so nice?” An outfit from his recently laundered clothes was laid out on the bed. She giggled, because it was all black, including the t-shirt he swiftly pulled on. “Some of your blacks don’t match, you know.”</p><p>“What?” Geralt frowned, checked, and decided he couldn’t be bothered.</p><p>Ciri snorted at his efforts, going around to climb the other side of his bed. She was dying of curiosity by now and Geralt was not in the least being forthcoming. “You seriously won’t tell me why you’re getting all dressed up?” she tried again.</p><p>“I’m not getting dressed up.” Geralt decided on a black sweater. Surprising, considering the other option was a black hoodie. He pulled it on his t-shirt, and Ciri used his momentary distraction to stretch her arm over to his nightstand and take his phone hostage.</p><p>“Guess I’ll find out myself.”  His lock screen was a picture of them, taken over the summer at Castle Island, his passcode a mix of her age and date of birth. Ciri scrolled through his messages.</p><p>When he noticed, Geralt said warningly, “Hey. Stop that.”</p><p>Ciri ignored him, seeing her contact as his most recent text. The rest were from Roach, Danek, and other colleagues of his who Ciri vaguely knew. None of the texts were answered, because Geralt was terrible at texting in that he never did it. Ciri decided to check his calls instead.</p><p>“Hmm,” she said, “you don’t have any missed calls today… What about yesterday, or… voicemails…”</p><p>“Cirilla.” Geralt made a move to try and get his phone, but she quickly scooted to the other edge of the bed to escape him. Just as she was going to give up, his phone lit up with a call, the generic chime filling up the room.</p><p>“Who the hell is ‘Buttercup’?” Ciri said, and she could have sworn Geralt’s eyes flashed with panic.</p><p>“Give that back right now,” Geralt growled.</p><p>“Oh, is this a date? Booty call?” Cirilla taunted, slipping down the mattress when Geralt reached across. “Should I pick up? Tell them you’re getting all dressed up--?”</p><p>“Cirilla Fiona Elen RIANNON.”</p><p>If she let it ring any longer it would go to voicemail. Ciri answered. Geralt marched across to her side, with a half-hearted scowl on his face. He had never gotten mad at her. Ciri had seen his ire directed toward others. It was scary and this was not it. This, she knew, was embarrassment, because for all his menace, her guardian was a big baby about some things.</p><p>“Hel-looo?” Cirilla sang into the phone, hopping back on the bed to try and escape Geralt a final time.</p><p>“Oh, hello there,” answered a familiar voice. “Cirilla, is that you?”</p><p>Cirilla gasped in shock, and laid width-wise across the bed. “Mr. Pankratz?! You’re Geralt’s date?”</p><p>Geralt closed his eyes and grunted a curse. </p><p>“Ah hah, I see he told you about that,” Mr. Pankratz replied. “Hang on, did he say it’s a date?”</p><p>“He didn’t,” Ciri quickly said, “but he’s getting ready like it is one and he even put on cologne--! Eek!”</p><p>Geralt got her by the ankle and he pulled, needing to do so only once. “It’s aftershave! Give it back, Cirilla.” </p><p>“Mr. Pankratz, want to know what you’re saved as in Geralt’s pho--?” </p><p>It was the last thing she managed to say before Geralt took his phone back, and left her to succumb to a fit of giggles.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed, mastering the snarl out of his tone. “Hey. Sorry.”</p><p>“Put him on speaker,” Ciri encouraged, kicking him in the iron gut. Geralt tickled the plant of her foot in answer, sending her into more laughter.</p><p>“That sounds great. Yeah, I know where that is. I’ll be there. Okay.”</p><p>Cirilla sat up, crossed her legs, and watched Geralt on the phone. She had never seen him like this, and of all the people to make him nervous, smiling Mr. Pankratz! Just when she thought Roach, Dara and Danek coming for Thanksgiving was a treat, she was faced with this moment. Ciri was delighted, and frankly proud of Geralt for going out. As far as she was concerned, he was as much of a geek as she was. When Geralt frowned at her, she knew the music teacher had said something of interest.</p><p>“You sure?” Geralt asked on the line. “Fine.”</p><p>He reluctantly handed his phone to her and Ciri snatched it eagerly. </p><p>“Hi, Mr. Pankratz,” she said, in her sweetest voice. “Geralt is almost ready, but he has a curfew of one thirty, alright?”</p><p>“Does he indeed, Cirilla? I was not aware of that,” the music teacher said. “I hope it’s alright with you I’m seeing him like this. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable about it.”</p><p>“It’s fine, I really don’t care,” she told Mr. Pankratz honestly. “Just be nice to Geralt. He’s quiet but, it’s because he doesn’t do this kind of thing a lot.”</p><p>Mr. Pankratz’s chuckle was soft. “Right, of course. I promise to be nice to him. One last thing, Cirilla, um, what <i>does</i> he have me saved under in his phone? Nothing horrid, I hope.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Cirilla smirked, turning over to see Geralt had returned from changing his pants. “You’ll have to ask Geralt that one for yourself. But just so you know, it’s way cuter than what he has under me. You kids have fun!”</p><p>“Alright, then. I’ll see you next week.”</p><p>“Bye, see you in school!”</p><p>Cirilla hung up, let loose a sigh, and looked at Geralt. He was blatantly avoiding her eye. So she said, “Geralt and Mr. Pankratz, sittin’ in a tree--”</p><p>Geralt grunted savagely.</p><p>“K-i-s-s-i-n-g.”</p><p>“You done?” he sighed. “Least tell me how I look.”</p><p>She raised herself up on her knees and appraised him, hand to chin.</p><p>“Hmm. Turn?” Geralt sighed, but complied. “Come back to the front?” His golden eyes were hers once more. “You look fine, I like that sweater on you. But if you wear a hat it’s going to mess up your hair.”</p><p>“It’s winter, Cirilla.”</p><p>“Wait.” She ran to the bathroom and came back with a brush and pomade. “Sit. I’ll slick it back for you so it lasts.”</p><p>Geralt was oddly compliant and Ciri redid his bun to perfection. He put on his contacts and donned his jacket.</p><p>“Excited for your date?” she asked him, smiling again.</p><p>“It’s a drink,” Geralt tried.</p><p>“Answer the question.”</p><p>“Fine. Yes.”</p><p>“Ooh, so you like him?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Geralt said. “He’s good company. And he’s nice to you.”</p><p>“Aw, Geralt.” Ciri smacked him on the arm. “Shut up, that’s so cute.”</p><p>“I guess that means I like him.”</p><p>“When was the last time you went on a date?” Cirilla asked him.</p><p>Geralt shrugged. “I can’t remember.” </p><p>“Okay, well, if you still like him at the end of tonight, you should invite him for Thanksgiving!”</p><p>“He probably has plans.”</p><p>“Maybe he doesn’t,” Ciri pointed out. “Won't know unless you invite him, and that way you’ll also have someone to talk to during dinner.”</p><p>“I’ll think about it,” Geralt said. “I should go.” </p><p>“Okay.” Ciri went over when he opened up an arm, and gave him a hug. “Have fun. Be safe.”</p><p>“I will,” Geralt said softly. “Call me if anything.”</p><p>He made his way out and locked up. Ciri turned out the lights in his wake, sincerely hoping he would have fun. The only person lonelier than her sometimes was Geralt and Ciri hoped he would at least find a friend in Mr. Pankratz. For now, their little secret was safe with her. As she went back to her computer, Ciri found herself wondering just what the ‘Buttercup’ business was all about.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>JASKIER</b>
</p><p>It took the buzz to his apartment building’s front door for Jaskier to put on pants. He answered, and then hopped into the joggers matching his crew neck sweater. By the time he went to unlock his door, his guest had already knocked. Jaskier opened up with a smile.</p><p>“Hello gorgeous,” he said.</p><p>“Hey babes.” Yennefer moved in for a hug and Jaskier embraced her gladly, kissing her on either cheek. They looked flushed from the cold, lending a lovely hue to her olive skin. She came bearing a thick brown paper bag that was as welcome a sight as she proved. </p><p>“Here,” Jaskier offered, “let me take that. Smells absolutely divine.”</p><p>“I got Udon and the fancy rolls you like.” Yennefer moved deeper inside to hang her coat and purse. She had layered in earth tones, wearing a long bohemian style dress, boots, a scarf, and a wide brimmed felt hat.</p><p>“You, my darling,” Jaskier said, “are a Godsend.” He ripped open the bag and breathed with satisfaction. </p><p>“I know, babes. I hope you’re hungry,” she said, heading straight for the kitchen.</p><p>“I’ve been waiting all morning for this.” </p><p>There was noodle soup and bento boxes. Yennefer knew where he kept things, as they tended to come together like this fairly often. She procured two wine glasses and a bottle, and set to pouring while Jaskier organized the food. They relocated to the coffee table and settled on either side of it.</p><p>“Beautiful dress,” Jaskier said. “Let me guess, Aritzia at the Prudential?”</p><p>“Free People,” she answered, “but the hat is Aritzia. Your sweater is from... Bodega?”</p><p>“You were with me when I bought it,” Jaskier said, “you just don’t you remember.”</p><p>“It was ages ago, then,” Yennefer said. “We should go shopping again soon. Anyway, how’s your week been?"</p><p>“God, where to begin?” Jaskier opted for a few rolls of sushi.</p><p>“Something happen at work?”</p><p>“Do you remember the guy I told you about?</p><p>Yennefer smirked. “Which one?” She had known and been good friends with Jaskier long enough to recognize that, with him, there was always someone. “Bloke from the app? Someone else?”</p><p>“The parent,” Jaskier specified, certain he had mentioned <i>that</i> particular encounter to his dearest friend. </p><p>It took Yennefer a second to remember. “Right. Hunky guardian from last month, yeah? You saw him again?"</p><p>“Well,” Jaskier smiled, “we chaperoned a field trip together.”</p><p>“How did that go?”</p><p>“I think I love him,” Jaskier blurted out.</p><p>“Of course you do, babes,” Yennefer shook her head with a smile. “I don’t know why I bother asking.”</p><p>Jaskier threw up his chopsticks at that, saying defensively, “No, really this time. I think this is the one.”</p><p>“You think everyone is ‘the one’, Jaskie.”</p><p>“Do you want to hear about him or not?”</p><p>“Fine.” She grinned and stole a piece of sushi from his box. “Tell me everything. You two meet up recently?”</p><p>“A few days ago.” Jaskier pried open the bowl of thick noodle soup and blew carefully on them. “Bit of an express dinner, but I wouldn’t leave without his number, which I now have and we’ve made plans to have a drink tonight.”</p><p>“Bollocks. That fast, huh?”</p><p>“I think my luck is turning.”</p><p>“What’s he like, then?”</p><p>Jaskier considered how to best answer that, since there was so much he could say, so many facets of Geralt’s personality he had yet to unpuzzle which already captivated his affection.</p><p>“He is a wonderful father,” Jaskier said emphatically, first and foremost, “a legal guardian, where technicalities come into play, but the man seems devoted to his daughter. I suppose he’s sweet, in that way, though he is also quiet. Perhaps he is shy.” It hadn’t occurred to him a man like Geralt might be timid. The thought filled him with more fondness.</p><p>“But is he actually sweet,” Yennefer said, “or does it just seem like he is, and then he might turn, you know… not so nice? We both know you haven’t always been able to tell the difference.”</p><p>“I know, Yennefer,” Jaskier said. “I hope this time is different.”</p><p>“Me too.” She gave his hand a squeeze, her smile compassionate. “Tell me about this date. Where are you going, what are you wearing?”</p><p>“Ah, well, I don’t know that he would use the word ‘date’, but I’m thinking Wally’s.”</p><p>“Casual chic, then,” Yennefer said. </p><p>“Yeah, it’s in the area and I think he’ll like it.”</p><p>“Does he have a name, Jaskie?” Yen said, “and a job?” </p><p>Jaskier smiled widely. “I hear he’s got two of those. His name is Geralt, he works as a Whole Foods butcher at Blaviken. I’m not sure what else he does for a liv--”</p><p>“Hang on, Blaviken?”</p><p>“Yes,” Jaskier paused. “Something wrong?”</p><p>Food was forgotten. Yennefer dashed over to her purse to get her phone.</p><p>“He’s a butcher working at Blaviken?” she repeated, frantically scrolling through her phone. “Tall, dark, and stupid handsome? Nicely built?”</p><p>“That,” Jaskier considered, “sounds vaguely like Geralt. Alright, uncannily. Do you know him?”</p><p>“Not personally but... is this him?” Yennefer turned her phone over to show him a picture, part of a message thread. Though it was a bit blurry, the imposing outline and strong profile behind a glass counter were unmistakable.</p><p>Jaskier frowned at the image. “How did you get that picture?”</p><p>“That’s him?” Yennefer threw her head back and cackled mightily. “Oh my God, it is.” She showed him at least five more pictures from different days and angles. </p><p>“Just who is taking these photos?” </p><p>“Babes,” Yennefer said knowingly, “this is Hot Butcher.”</p><p>“Hot—<i>What</i>?!”</p><p>“A few colleagues of mine,” she said with a grin, “frequent the Blaviken Whole Foods to buy his meat. Major big dick energy. We try to sneak a photo anytime we go round.”</p><p>“Sweet mother of God,” Jaskier sighed. “Seriously? You and your friends in blue should know better than to stalk a civilian for fuck’s sake.”</p><p>“Settle down, babes,” Yennefer cajoled, “it’s strictly about his meat.” </p><p>“Please stop talking about his meat.”</p><p>“I can’t believe that’s your new crush, Jaskie. Fuck, Hot Butcher has a kid? Is she one of your students?”</p><p>“She isn’t. But I know the dear girl well enough, she comes by the music room.”</p><p>“So you met him at school?” Yennefer, very suddenly, was far more interested in Geralt than she had been at the start of the conversation.</p><p>“During parent night in October, my darling.” Jaskier reached for his glass. “A few weeks later I happened to buy meat from him,” he said, realizing with horror, “for your steak dinner you were so adamant about having, you sorceress.” </p><p>“You bought that from Hot Butcher?”</p><p>“Stop calling him that, for heaven’s sake, Yen.”</p><p>“Yes, alright. What did you say his name was again? Gerard?”</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier pronounced, “and he’s a lovely man and I really hope something good comes of it.”</p><p>“Aw, Jaskie,” Yennefer gave him a smile and took his arm in hers. “Me too, babes. You deserve a hot butcher after… well, She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”</p><p>Jaskier could not agree more, though he made no reply.</p><p>“So, is he into you?”</p><p>“Perhaps,” Jaskier said. “The drink was his idea, I just let him know I was really keen. He seems like a brooder but he is very direct.”</p><p>“Good. We like direct,” Yennefer replied. “He’d tell you what he thinks of you, if you asked. Just drinks tonight, then?”</p><p>“I’d rather not rush into things this time around. And,” Jaskier added, “something tells me I may be far more interested than he is. Better to play it safe, for now.”</p><p>“He seems nice, from what you’ve said. This could be what you need to pull you out of your funk, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Yes, I would love a nice person, for once… with big cock energy, or what have you.”</p><p>“Big dick energy,” she laughed, “and I hope he’s good to you.”</p><p>“Well,” Jaskier said, “I hope I don’t get ahead of myself and scare him off by seeming desperate.”</p><p>“But you are desperate, babes.”</p><p>“Yes, I know that,” Jaskier huffed, “but Geralt doesn’t.”</p><p>“Why don’t you just ask him if he’s looking? I don’t have much experience dating single parents, but I understand the good ones will put their children first. Doesn’t mean they aren’t looking for company.”</p><p>“I plan to,” Jaskier admitted. “I just worry. He seems good, almost too good for it to be so easy.”</p><p>“What makes you say that?”</p><p>“I can’t put my finger on it,” Jaskier frowned, “but I think there’s more to him than he’s let on.”</p><p>“There’s more to all of us, Jaskie,” Yennefer said wisely. “I don’t suppose you’ve told him most of your relationships, including the longest with You-Know-Who, have been emotionally abusive car crashes you’re still recovering from, have you?”</p><p>“Fair enough.” Jaskier drank deeply from his wine glass. “I’d imagine he’ll run screaming if I did.”</p><p>“Well,” Yennefer replied, “if he doesn’t, and is willing to be supportive of your tender heart, maybe he’s a keeper. Only one way to find out.”</p><p>A thought occurred to Jaskier. “Maybe he’s an ex-con.”</p><p>Yennefer smirked. “Do you want me to run his name?”</p><p>“Definitely not,” Jaskier said.</p><p>The Geralt he was looking forward to seeing that evening, Cirilla’s father, was perfect, regardless of what came with his past. Jaskier only hoped the man could see him in the same light.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Jaskier burrowed into his green oversized puffer jacket as cars drifted along Mass Ave. People were out and about despite the frigid weather. He arrived at Wally’s Jazz Cafe to catch the tail end of the bar’s weekly jam sessions. Jaskier greeted the familar bartender with a handshake and looked around in case Geralt had arrived early. There were no available seats, typical of this place on a Saturday night, so Jaskier contented himself with the music while waiting for a spot to open.</p><p>He had been startled earlier when Cirilla answered his phone call. Her request to him had been sweet, one Jaskier meant to honor. A table opened up when the jammers packed up and Jaskier quickly claimed it, tucking his coat into the booth seat opposing his chair. </p><p>He checked his phone, to no new messages from the man, and clicked the device shut to glance at his reflection. Jaskier wore a cream sweater, black jeans rolled over the ankles, and classic Saucony shadow sneakers, with his favorite watch at his wrist.</p><p>Each time the door opened, Jaskier looked over to see if it was Geralt. He was getting nervous by the moment, considering getting himself a drink while he waited, and yet not wanting to be gauche. The jazz portion of the evening’s entertainment began, drawing Jaskier’s attention toward the instruments.</p><p>“Hi,” said a voice from behind, coming around him.</p><p>Jaskier, having been engrossed, turned to see Geralt’s chiseled face. </p><p>“Ah! Hello, there you are.” He rose with a smile and reached for his belongings to free the booth space.  “How are you?”</p><p>“Good,” Geralt said, holding his gaze. “Sorry I’m late.”</p><p>“It’s alright, saved you a seat.” </p><p>Geralt eased into it, still in his outerwear. He took Jaskier in slowly, his eyes dark and searching. “I hope you didn’t wait too long.”</p><p>“You’re here now,” Jaskier assured him. “Find the place okay?”</p><p>“I did. I know this place, actually.” Geralt looked around. “Old school. It’s been here a while.”</p><p>“Yes, it has.” </p><p>They beheld one another in tense silence, just like the last time, except neither had anywhere to be this evening. It felt different with the night ahead of them. Geralt, in his Bruins winter hat, looked almost uncertain. </p><p>Though perhaps Jaskier was projecting. He considered asking Geralt if he followed sports, as the man did seem to have an assortment of Boston teams hats.</p><p>“What do you want to drink?” Geralt asked, rescuing them from the smitten silence.</p><p>“I think I’ll have a Guinness to start.”</p><p>A light came to Geralt’s eyes. “Alright.”</p><p>“What will you have?” </p><p>“Maybe a Sam Adams. I got it,” Geralt offered and rose.</p><p>Jaskier watched the jacket come off, revealing the built frame underneath. Geralt went to the bar and opened a tab, his attention drawn to the musicians while the order was fulfilled. </p><p>Excitement thrummed through Jaskier as he assessed Geralt. He was in slight disbelief they were actually here together, something he’d longed for since the night they met in his classroom. </p><p>He believed he would never get over how ridiculously good looking Geralt was, or how happy it made him just hearing the man talk about parenting like there was nothing else he was fit to do, or the thoughtful, invested way Geralt listened when he spoke, so deeply it seemed he sought to absorb Jaskier’s words.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said, once the beer and snacks came.</p><p>Geralt toasted with Jaskier and they drank, both appreciatively surveying their beers right after and simultaneously offering the other to try their drink. Jaskier had to laugh at the shared quirk.</p><p>“Ice hockey fan?” he asked, when his Guinness was back, jutting his chin toward Geralt’s hat. </p><p>He wanted to see the man without it, as he was beginning to suspect a very bald head lurked underneath. Of course, such things did not matter in the long run, but Jaskier found he was curious.</p><p>Geralt didn’t answer his query. He must have grunted, but with the music, Jaskier couldn’t be sure.</p><p>“Will you take it off, Geralt?” he tried instead. “I would like to see your lovely head.”</p><p>Geralt looked away, smoothed a hand over his mouth, and eventually, he relented. Jaskier’s jaw dropped, while Geralt seemed uncertain, toying with the hat as if Jaskier’s reaction would determine whether or not it stayed off. </p><p>“Oh, wow,” Jaskier said, eyes going wide. “You greyed early, then?”</p><p>“Something like that.”</p><p>Albino white, slightly jarring, in contrast to his still relatively youthful features. Though now that Jaskier looked more closely, there was some grey to his brows and he could remember previously seeing it in Geralt’s stubble, too. He realized belatedly and with alarm, the poor man across him was clearly insecure about it.</p><p>“Don’t take this the wrong way, I am just surprised. But it looks great in a bun, with the shaved--” Jaskier leaned over to better see, finding a hip undercut. The corners of his mouth dipped appreciatively. “Back. You are like a Siberian Husky. Like a… sexy wolf.”</p><p>Geralt chuckled and put down the hat, seeming faintly appeased.</p><p>“A white wolf,” Jaskier decided after a minute. </p><p>He did like the white. It was unexpected and added a new dimension to Geralt’s allure, and it seemed long enough to pull. Jaskier loved to handle a good ponytail.</p><p>“That’s one way to put it,” Geralt replied. “Sorry about Ciri earlier. She was being nosy.”</p><p>“Oh, that,” Jaskier smiled, “was endearing. She was such a meek girl when I met her. I imagine she’s completely different at home.”</p><p>“Yeah. She’s a good kid,” Geralt said. “Gentle. Kind.”</p><p>“Sounds like her guardian.” Jaskier raised his beer for another toast. “To the gentle, the meek, and the kind.”</p><p>“Cheers,” Geralt replied, drinking easily to that.</p><p>“So, was she right when she said you don’t do this often?”</p><p>“She was,” Geralt said. “I don’t think anyone’s really interested in me.”</p><p>“You and I both know that isn’t true, Geralt.”</p><p>“You do this a lot?”</p><p>“Yes,” Jaskier answered frankly, “but not always with people I’m really interested in. Not like tonight.”</p><p>Geralt asked, “Are you nervous?”</p><p>“Not anymore. I was, earlier, but it’s gone now. Though I am a bit worried.”</p><p>“What about?”</p><p>Jaskier chose his words carefully then said, “That I’ll send you out of here running.”</p><p>Geralt chuckled, to his surprise. “Takes a lot to scare me.”</p><p>“Oh?” Jaskier leaned back, taking that detail into consideration. “And what if I were to ask you, outright, just what you’re hoping to get out of tonight, would you answer?”</p><p>“If you asked.”</p><p>Jaskier tilted his head. While he wished to play it ‘safe’, here was his chance to see if his affection would be a waste of time. “What are you looking for, Geralt, if I may be so bold as to ask this so early on?”</p><p>“I could use a friend,” Geralt replied plainly.</p><p>“You need a friend,” Jaskier repeated. “Is that what went through your mind, when you asked me for a drink?”</p><p>“That was one thing.”</p><p>“And the other?”</p><p>“The fact that you’re good company. Nice to Ciri. Fucking adorable.”</p><p>Jaskier thought he heard wrong. The unexpected candor kindled heat along his neck and it took a healthy gulp of cold beer to balance it.  “You think I’m adorable?” he finally managed, biting back his smile, worried it would be too much too soon.</p><p>“You have your moments.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Jaskier replied, “that’s… not a compliment I get. Ever.”</p><p>“I find that hard to believe.”</p><p>“Well, you’d be surprised,” Jaskier said. “But, the bottom line is, you wanted to be here tonight, and see me and spend time.”</p><p>“I did,” Geralt confirmed. “What are you looking for?”</p><p>Jaskier fidgeted with his coaster. This was it. He wanted to be straightforward, like Geralt, a job easier done if asking himself the question didn’t result in so many chaotic answers. </p><p>He sought honesty, companionship, toe-curling frequent fucking; to be, for once in his life, in a healthy relationship; he wanted someone at his side who wanted to be there, a future of some kind, something real, true, and comforting. Affection, safety, respect, romance, in all the ways he knew he could give it, for someone willing to receive it, and maybe, return it unreservedly, without toxicity.</p><p>“I’m looking for a lighthouse,” Jaskier said, opting for Geralt’s words. “I don’t usually lay it out so soon but there it is. I want something real.”</p><p>“To be anchored somewhere you belong,” Geralt elaborated.</p><p>“Yes, with someone who actually wants to be there. I don’t think that’s a lot to ask, is it?”</p><p>“It isn’t,” Geralt frowned. “It just sounds to me like you haven’t had much good come your way.” </p><p>Jaskier stiffened, waved a hand dismissively. “A can of worms best left unopened, and in the past, where it belongs.”</p><p>Geralt stared at him. “You don’t want to talk about it.”</p><p>“I don’t. Not tonight.”</p><p>Geralt silently respected the wish and turned his attention to the musicians. “I never asked,” he raised, “what kind of music you play. I’m curious.”</p><p>Jaskier was grateful for the smooth transition. “Well, when I decided to go solo, I thought I’d make a bit of folk music, but I am always experimenting.”</p><p>“Did you write down the lyric you mentioned?”</p><p>“I did,” Jaskier said fondly. “You remembered. That silly little thing, it was hardly anything.”</p><p>“It could turn into something more, someday.”</p><p>“I certainly hope so. I miss performing,” Jaskier admitted. “I am uneasy without new material to share. Some days I sit for hours at the piano, rehearsing, but it’s not the same.”</p><p>“You have a piano?”</p><p>“I have something of a tiny recording studio in what’s meant to be my bedroom,” he elaborated, “though recently, my friends have gotten more use out of it than I have.”</p><p>“What has inspired you in the past?” Geralt wondered, finishing his beer.</p><p>“Various things in life, I suppose,” Jaskier said. “The way I was raised. The state of the world. Beauty. Love. Heartbreak. Other music. Feelings within me, on varying topics, which I can’t articulate any other way than turning into music.”</p><p>“Extensive list. You haven’t felt inspired these last few years?”</p><p>“No,” Jaskier frowned. “I suppose I’ve just been severely weary.”</p><p>“I can understand that,” Geralt replied.</p><p>“But you have a daughter to keep you focused. You have something to work for.”</p><p>“I’m lucky,” Geralt stated. “You seem like there isn’t much keeping you grounded.”</p><p>“It sounds gloomier, coming from you,” Jaskier admitted. “But yes, sometimes, that is I suppose my reality. I do truly like my students and being a teacher but... it’s like there is a crack, and it’s just been getting worse, and I can’t figure out how to fix it.”</p><p>“We all have scars inside. Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.”</p><p>“Goodness, Geralt,” Jaskier said. “That’s really cheerful.”</p><p>“That’s life. But there is always hope.” He reached to put a hand over Jaskier’s. “I’m not a professional, I don’t know what the answer is, but in my experience, no matter how bad things get, something better can surprise you and come along.” </p><p>Jaskier beheld the earnest expression on Geralt’s face. He squeezed his hand, wishing they sat closer together.</p><p>“Another Guinness?” Geralt asked, nodding at the finished drink, and breaking the reverie.</p><p>Jaskier asked for a different beer for the second round, though he noticed Geralt opted for a soda.</p><p>“Is your family in Dún Laoghaire?” Geralt asked him. </p><p>Jaskier flashed a smile, flattered and terribly pleased to see Geralt had been listening when he spoke, remembering small details from the hike. He even pronounced Dún Laoghaire properly which, for an American, was very impressive.</p><p>“Yes,” he said at length, “though it’s just my parents.”</p><p>“You guys close?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t say that. We haven’t been since I was very young.”</p><p>“I see. You probably have friends here who feel like family then.”</p><p>“I do.” Jaskier smiled, thinking of Yennefer. Then, “Did you know you have a nickname?”</p><p>Geralt frowned. “What?” </p><p>“Among the lovely grocers of Blaviken’s Whole Foods,” Jaskier said. “They call you the Hot Butcher. It’s a bit of a fan club, as I understand it.”</p><p>“Who told you that?”</p><p>“A very trustworthy source,” Jaskier said with a laugh. “Though I can’t say I blame them. You are scorchingly hot.”</p><p>Geralt blinked. “You think I’m hot,” he stated matter-of-factly.</p><p>“Geralt, I have eyes,” Jaskier said. “And you may not realize it, but that mane you hide so often is doing you a serious service, you silver fox.”</p><p>“I thought you said wolf.”</p><p>“That too.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Geralt considered. “Well, you’re pretty easy on the eyes, too.”</p><p>“Y-You think so?” The music teacher felt a knot of butterflies in his gut release. Geralt answered with a tilted assessment, his expression softening in the way he gazed at Jaskier. “What do you like the most?”</p><p>“Your face,” Geralt said directly, “is like an open book.”</p><p>“Wh-, uh, I was not expecting that.”</p><p>Geralt shrugged. “I imagine you’re not a very good liar.”</p><p>“Ah, well, yes I have been told that on countless occasions.”</p><p>“Bet you can’t hide being hurt very well, either,” Geralt said. “The two go hand in hand.”</p><p>“Let’s hope you never have to find out, then,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“You looking forward to the holidays?” Geralt raised after a moment.</p><p>“God, yes. The time off is truly wonderful.”</p><p>“Staying local?”</p><p>“Yes, most likely the Tri-state area,” Jaskier sighed. “I find it easier lately. What about you and Cirilla?”</p><p>“Her aunt, uncle, and cousin are coming by for turkey,” Geralt said. “I don’t know about Christmas. I usually work.”</p><p>“On Christmas Day?”</p><p>“Sometimes,” Geralt shrugged. “Depends on the day.”</p><p>“Goodness, you really take no days off, do you?”</p><p>“I usually can’t afford to,” Geralt said with a lowered, thoughtful gaze. “But I want Ciri to have a nice time this year. I’ll have to ask Roach about Christmas.”</p><p>“Roach?”</p><p>“Rochelle. My sister,” Geralt clarified.</p><p>“The same aunt of hers coming by at the end of the month?”</p><p>Geralt nodded, thoughtful again for a while. He finished his soda and checked the time. Jaskier felt the drop of his heart at that gesture, until it occurred to him they’d been here several hours. It had felt so natural, they could have gone on all night.</p><p>“What do you have me saved under in your mobile?” Jaskier asked him.</p><p>Geralt huffed, shaking his head. “You want another drink?”</p><p>“No, I’m alright, don’t you dodge my question.”</p><p>“I need the men’s room,” Geralt said and despite the urge to protest, Jaskier let him go. </p><p>Their conversation replayed in his mind while he waited. He’d barely asked Geralt any questions, and found he was annoyed that he’d been talking about himself the entire time. He worried Geralt would think he was self-centered. Perhaps they could have another drink. Unfortunately, Geralt returned and Jaskier saw him close up his tab before sitting down. </p><p>“You’re not leaving this place until I see my contact information in your phone, Geralt.”</p><p>“It’s just your name,” the man said wearily. “Cirilla was messing with you.”</p><p>“That little angel does not seem the sort to mess with people for no reason.”</p><p>“In <i>my</i> experience as a parent,” Geralt lectured, “that is exactly the definition of a cute kid.”</p><p>Jaskier considered and nodded, for he didn’t have a counter argument.</p><p>“Fine, don’t tell me,” he groused, “I’ll find out one way or another. So, are you all ready to head back?”</p><p>“If you don’t mind,” Geralt said. “You okay getting back to your place from here?”</p><p>“Yes, it’s very close, thank you,” Jaskier assured him. “And you? Everything still running?”</p><p>“For now,” Geralt confirmed. “I should hustle though.”</p><p>“I won’t keep you, then.” Jaskier did not follow suit when Geralt stood and dressed. “I think I’ll enjoy the music a bit longer.”</p><p>“You sure?” Geralt asked, standing there looking uncertain again.</p><p>“Yes. Less than an hour until this place closes for the night.”</p><p>“Okay. Nice seeing you, Jaskier.”</p><p>He looked up longingly, regretting to see him go. But all he could manage to say was, “You too, Geralt.”</p><p>Geralt’s back disappeared past the doorway into the cold outside and Jaskier sat there, immediately missing him, wanting his company and to hear the sound of his voice. To let the hours fly by as though they had always known each other, and had spent years at each other’s sides. He stared through dull eyes at the band playing and felt the lump of regret rise in his throat.</p><p>Jaskier snatched his jacket and raced out of the bar. He ran down the street toward the nearest train station, frantically searching the shadows. Geralt could be gone by now. Jaskier hastily wore his jacket and continued to run, ignoring walk signs, growing desperate as his lungs filled with cold air. </p><p>“Geralt?” he called out. “Fuck… Geralt? Geralt!”</p><p>A figure halted up ahead, a few meters from the station. Jaskier thanked everything above when he saw the yellow Bruins logo. Geralt looked perplexed. Jaskier approached steadily, his only thought being how greatly he’d have regretted not coming after the man. </p><p>“You alright?” Geralt asked, his frown deep.</p><p>“Yes...” Jaskier puffed. “Just... one last thing.”</p><p>He came up to Geralt, grasped him by the collar, and tugged to bridge the necessary few inches between them. Jaskier brushed Geralt’s lips with his own, an alluring scent meeting his nostrils. He was met with the tense resistance of surprise. </p><p>Undeterred, Jaskier parted Geralt’s lips to deepen the kiss and the stiffness gave way to an enthusiastic return of the touch, their lips molding eagerly together. Geralt wrapped his strapping arms around Jaskier and held tightly on. Jaskier snaked his own to try and encompass the broad shoulders but in truth, he could have melted in that steadfast hold.</p><p>This proved to be the assurance Jaskier sought. When a soft moan escaped him to land into Geralt’s mouth, Jaskier imagined taking Geralt back to his, the thought of the man’s warm body making the hairs at the back of his neck bristle with need.</p><p>Geralt withdrew, cold air replacing the feel of warm lips, and gazed searchingly at Jaskier. His face, which still held some air of surprise and now admiration, looked beautiful in the warm glow of streetlights. </p><p>“Th-That was it,” Jaskier said to him.</p><p>Geralt chuckled, and gave him another kiss, of the sweet pecking nature. His palms kneaded across Jaskier’s shoulders and back until they returned to his sides, for the music teacher to clasp.</p><p>“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Geralt said unexpectedly.</p><p>Jaskier frowned, as he couldn’t think of anything, and blurted out, “I couldn’t tell you, so I assume nothing.”</p><p>“Do you want to spend it together?” Geralt asked, his smile soft. “Come to my place. You’re invited.”</p><p>“Won’t Cirilla mind?”</p><p>“It was her idea,” Geralt said fondly.</p><p>A warmth surged through Jaskier, preceding anything before it. The prospect sounded beautiful. </p><p>“Then, it would be my pleasure.” </p><p>They shared another kiss which unfortunately had to end.</p><p>“Good,” Geralt replied, “I’ll see you then.”</p><p>He gave Jaskier a final, lingering smooch on the forehead, with the kind of affection designed to haunt the music teacher forevermore, and finally stepped away, with only their fingers hanging together until the last moment. </p><p>Jaskier watched Geralt disappear into the station to catch the last train, and then, his heart full to the brim, he went home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
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        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
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    <p>
  <b>GERALT</b>
</p><p>Geralt needed sleep. Although, between bringing a large turkey home, buying Ciri Thanksgiving decorations to put around the apartment, procuring two more chairs for their four-seat dining table, and the extra laundry and cleaning to be done prior to the arrival of their guests, it seemed unlikely he would get any. </p><p>He worked like usual the day before the holiday, whereas Cirilla had a half day from school. She was home when Roach and the gang arrived and let them in. Geralt was sent the selfie they all took that evening, crowding around the kitchen and thawing the turkey. The huge smile on Cirilla’s face made him forget he was running on fumes.</p><p>On Thanksgiving morning, as he got home from work, an assortment of shoes of all sizes greeted him on the welcome mat. Geralt added his old boots to the pairs, looking forward to seeing everyone when they roused. Cirilla loved holidays and being around family. Geralt was glad this one would be special for her, though he found an apprehensive little knot churned in his gut. </p><p>Jaskier would be joining them and Geralt thought about the impression his home would make. They lived simply, a few steps above the bare necessities, but this was their reality. While Cirilla didn’t want for anything, Geralt continuously wished he could better provide for her. He worried that he invited Jaskier into seeing just how he didn't quite measure up to expectations unbeknownst to him.</p><p>The couch was left to him with a neatly folded pile of covers, along with one of his hoodies and sweatpants. Geralt silently thanked Cirilla, or Roach, for the forethought, and tried to get some shut-eye. He managed a decent nap before the sound of Cirilla speaking softly to Roach from her bedroom roused him.</p><p>“How did you sleep, honey?” Roach said, in her distinctly deep voice. “Do you want some breakfast?” </p><p>“Maybe just a little bit,” Cirilla replied. “I wonder if Dara is awake. I think Geralt might be home by now.”</p><p>“I noticed you still call him by his given name,” Roach said. “Will you ever call him dad?”</p><p>“I don’t think he wants me to.”</p><p>“Have you asked him?”</p><p>“No, I guess not.”</p><p>“I think, with Geralt, there is no telling what he wants unless you hear it from him,” Roach said wisely. “What does he call you?”</p><p>“'Ciri'. Or just 'kid'.” Geralt sensed a smile in her tone. “Or 'kiddo'. I like that one, it’s cute. But in public he always says ‘my daughter’.”</p><p>“It’s what you are to him, sweetheart. He may not have played a part in giving you life, but he will defend you like any father.”</p><p>“Yeah. Did I tell you he has a boyfriend?”</p><p>Geralt grunted, tuning them out after he could practically hear the arch of Roach’s brow, asking to be told more. He pulled himself up and folded the blankets, tucking them in a storage closet. Everyone was up within twenty minutes and it was a line to the single bathroom. Geralt went last, since it gave him time to properly welcome Roach, Danek, and Dara, and to change into proper day wear. He gave Cirilla a pat on the head while she breakfasted with her cousin.</p><p>“She tell you I dyed her hair this time?” Geralt announced to Roach in the kitchen. “Still looks pretty good.”</p><p>“That’s because we went and touched it up yesterday,” Roach answered, from where she seasoned the turkey. “So, who’s the boyfriend I keep hearing about?”</p><p>Geralt gave a soft growl and made himself a cup of coffee. “It’s not like that.”</p><p>“Cirilla says you’re in love.”</p><p>“Cirilla’s fourteen,” Geralt scoffed. </p><p>“He’s coming tonight, isn’t he?”</p><p>“Two o’clock.”</p><p>“Oh, afternoon. So early,” Roach smirked, tossing dark hair over her shoulder. “You must really like him to have invited him.”</p><p>“It was Ciri’s idea,” Geralt said.</p><p>“You didn’t have to take it.”</p><p>That much was true. Geralt had lost his nerve when he’d gone for a drink with Jaskier. Having the suave music teacher sit across him, perfectly conveying who he was and what he sought, making Geralt’s words sound so eloquent, had left him feeling vastly inadequate. Jaskier, he decided at one point that night, could do much better than him. It was the reason he took his leave after a handful of hours, ignoring his desire to stay. If Jaskier hadn’t come running after him to kiss him, he wouldn’t have extended the invitation.</p><p>He suppressed the warmth brought on by the recollection of such a defining moment, and focused on what Roach was doing. Geralt was convinced there was a degree of sorcery to her seasoning. She always said the best turkey was started a night before and allowed nearly all day in the oven to be perfect.</p><p>“What’s his name?” Roach asked. “Ciri addresses him as a teacher.”</p><p>“Jaskier.” Geralt conjured the cheerful, smooth-featured man to mind. “To be honest, I think he’s a little out of my league.”</p><p>“A little?”</p><p>“Fine,” Geralt turned to her. “Astronomically out of my league. It’s only a matter of time until he realizes what I am and decides it’s not worth the hassle.”</p><p>“Geralt, you are a true credit to mutants.” Roach dried her hands and crossed her arms to square on him. “You bitch like that around your daughter?”</p><p>Geralt frowned. So much for having made peace with what he was. </p><p>“No,” he said at length, “but I’m right. This thing that we are, not everyone wants to be a part of it. Especially someone like Jaskier. People like me don’t have the right to like people like him. You’ll see what I mean when he gets here.” </p><p>“You think he’s out of your league because you lack confidence,” Roach said. “Give yourself a chance, for once in your life, Geralt. It’s time. Anyway, we’re all looking forward to meeting him.”</p><p>“Hmm.” He finished his coffee, having nothing left to say to that, and opted for some proper food, breakfasting with Danek once the kids cleared the table. Geralt could hear Cirilla talking enthusiastically with Roach about designating tasks to involve everyone in the kitchen. </p><p>“How’s the ranch?” Geralt asked Danek.</p><p>“Good. We got another horse in,” Danek replied, “which tallies up to six with the foals. But we need the help, especially when we’re out working so much, and Dara has school.”</p><p>Danek, a businessman, had inherited the ranch and house they lived in from his father. Roach, who had been studying and training in law, was finally practicing as a Mutant Defense lawyer  in Portsmouth. If Geralt were a lesser man, he might have left Cirilla entirely to them and gone his own way. </p><p>“I really like horses,” Geralt said wistfully, though Danek already knew it. “You two are living the dream, I’m telling you.”</p><p>“Maybe.” Danek chuckled. “How’s things here with you two here? Ciri told me you guys went hiking recently.”</p><p>“Fieldtrip,” Geralt confirmed. “We’re fine, she’s doing okay in school. I gotta get a car though, and I don’t know how. I keep thinking something will happen and we’ll be stranded.”</p><p>“You know you can always come to us for help, Geralt.”</p><p>“Roach has done a lot for me already.”</p><p>“She’s your sister.”</p><p>“Exactly,” Geralt said, “It’s me who should be looking out for her.”</p><p>“If she wasn’t married to me,” Danek said, “I’d say you’re right. But you don’t have to worry about that anymore. You have a kid to raise.” When Geralt brooded on that, Danek continued, “Tell you what, I’ll ask some of my friends and colleagues if anyone’s got something to sell. A good truck or at least an AWD is a safe bet in New England.”</p><p>“I appreciate it,” Geralt said. “Don’t tell Roach. I’ll get the money myself.”</p><p>Danek smiled and promised to hold his tongue. Time elapsed quickly afterwards. Turkey went in the oven, the kids peeled vegetables, and both Geralt and Danek were elbow-deep in floury mixtures at Roach’s behest, presumably to bake when the oven was available. Geralt  felt his phone chime urgently in his pocket and cursed.</p><p>“Must be Jaskier.” He stared at his uselands hands. “Ciri!”</p><p>“Yeah!”</p><p>“Come here, kiddo.”</p><p>The girl sauntered over to get out his phone. “It’s your Buttercup,” she said, wiggling her brows knowingly.</p><p>“Pick up,” Geralt told her, hastily washing up. By the time he finished Cirilla had already hung up. Geralt’s stomach dropped. “What happened?” he asked, thinking Jaskier was no longer coming, and that he should have seen this coming, because Jaskier was too good for him anyway.</p><p>“He’s two minutes away,” Cirilla cheered.</p><p>“Ah.” Geralt took his phone, aware his exclamation sounded more like a sigh of relief than intended, and he stormed out of the kitchen. “I’ll be right back, he’ll need a parking pass,” he grumbled to no one, excited now.</p><p>He’d acquired two, so as to prevent towing, and Cirilla had delivered the first to Roach and Danek, as Geralt had seen on their SUV on his way in. He went quickly to snatch his jacket and caught a brief glimpse of himself, looking dark-eyed and tired. Briefly, he wished he could tear those contacts out and let Jaskier see the real him. </p><p>The thought was cut short when his phone rang again. Geralt was out the door in a few seconds, though it took him a minute to locate Jaskier’s Hyundai, parked a bit further out than usual given the increased number of guests in the neighborhood. Its owner stood by the door, resplendent in a camel coat, leather gloves, and all fitted blacks underneath, down to his polished boots. Geralt could smell his faint, fresh cologne from a distance.</p><p>“Hello Geralt,” Jaskier said, like he hadn’t seen him in a decade. “How are you?”</p><p>“Hey.” Geralt sensed a small upward pull at the corners of his mouth. Jaskier looked fresh-faced and bright-eyed and nothing short of perfect. “I’m good. Tired, but glad to see you.”</p><p>“You hard working man,” Jaskier said with a skillful, European pout. “Not working this afternoon, are you?”</p><p>“No. Unless you count whatever they’re making me do in the kitchen.”</p><p>Jaskier made a fond noise, reached for Geralt’s shoulders, and leaned into him.  They kissed naturally, as if their first hadn’t been the night after a few beers, and Geralt’s prior uncertainties melted to give way to warmth. </p><p>He liked the way Jaskier held on, as if wanting Geralt to swallow him whole. The music teacher looked happier, if that was possible, after the kiss, so Geralt gave him a second one for good measure, because happiness suited Jaskier’s face.</p><p>“Well,” Jaskier hummed, “I come bearing gifts, in the manner of pie ingredients, actual presents for everyone, and my guitar.”</p><p>One look in the back seat told Geralt the music teacher was not kidding. It was a bazaar of gift wrap colors. “Thanks. You shouldn’t have…”</p><p>“And what kind of guest would I be, turning up empty handed?”</p><p>“Let me give you a hand, then.”</p><p>Jaskier pulled the backseat door open and Geralt took everything except the cased guitar. He slapped the parking permit sticker on Jaskier’s windshield and they made their way back to the apartment.</p><p>The nerves returned to his stomach, staying even after Cirilla practically gave Jaskier the biggest hug he’d ever seen her give a teacher, and Jaskier complimented the decorations she’d worked so hard to pepper around the place. His big colorful eyes smiled at Dara, Danek, and Roach, making all their acquaintances with a warmth Geralt tried not to seem obvious about focusing on, while he stood staring back and forth between them all.</p><p>“Thank you so much for inviting me,” Jaskier said, “I admit I’ve not celebrated a proper family Thanksgiving in some time.”</p><p>“Then you’re in the right place,” Roach said. “I want to hear all about you, Jaskier. Geralt told me nothing useful.”</p><p>“Rest assured I am more than happy to oblige,” Jaskier said cheerfully, “and what a remarkable voice you have, madam, truly, I have never known anything like it.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Roach appraised him and then turned to Geralt with a nod. “I see what you meant, and maybe you were right,” she said. “But so what?”</p><p>Geralt grunted, and tucked Jaskier’s offerings nearby, whilst the music teacher asked what he was right about. </p><p>“Let me get your coat, Jaskier,” Geralt offered in answer. He hung it meticulously in his closet. Roach, he heard from a distance, discreetly divulged to Jaskier that Geralt seemed ‘intimidated’ to have the attention of such a nice, respectable, and well-spoken teacher. Not his words, but he couldn’t say she was wrong.</p><p>“Ah,” Jaskier replied. “Flattering as that is, I think we can all agree he’s the true catch in this scenario.”</p><p>"Thank you," Roach said conclusively.</p><p>Geralt couldn’t help but feel embarrassed after hearing that.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>The turkey was ready close to five o’clock and Geralt grew convinced Jaskier and Roach were kindred spirits, given the way they moved about nearly in sync, as they got pies in the oven and talked about countless topics. Jaskier was allegedly a ‘dreadful’ cook, but he’d learned to bake somewhere and it was the only thing that seemed as effortless to him as music. </p><p>Geralt learned a few more things from listening to their conversation, while giving the kids a hand with setting the table. His legal name, which nobody used, was Julian Alfred. Geralt had suspected as much, but Jaskier came from money. His mother had funded his education in music. He wasn't on the best terms with his father, an elitist who cared little for Jaskier’s free-spirited nature. There were no siblings, heart disease ran in the family...</p><p>“Geralt. Ger-<i>alt</i>,” Cirilla called, compelling his hearing to fine tune.</p><p>“Yeah, sweetie.”</p><p>“Where do you want to sit? I have to put your special leaf where you’re going to sit. How about next to Mr. Pankratz?” Cirilla held handcrafted decorations. She looked up to him with an endearing expression on her sweet face, resembling a daughter of the sun.</p><p>“Next to him is fine,” he replied. “I’ll take the stackable chair, he can sit at the head.”</p><p>“Such a good host,” Cirilla said, in a tone designed to poke fun.</p><p>Geralt smiled at her, ran his hand through her hair and caressed her face, raising it by the chin and wanting to commit this small moment of happiness to memory.</p><p>“I have never seen,” Jaskier murmured discreetly to Roach, “that man’s face soften more than when that daughter of his gives him a smile.”</p><p>“Isn’t that why you like him?” Roach answered. “The man represents the father you wish you had.”</p><p>Cirilla drifted away with her cousin and Geralt looked up at such a distinct claim to meet Jaskier’s eye. He went after a few moments, to stand beside Jaskier leaning by the kitchen sink. Together they overlooked the family.</p><p>“I’m going to marry you, Geralt,” Jaskier said.</p><p>Geralt couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you delirious with hunger?”</p><p>“Ah, well, yes,” Jaskier said, “I am, but that’s not why I’m saying it.” When Geralt made no more of a reply than a hum, Jaskier asked, “Wouldn’t you like to know why?”</p><p>“I’m happy just knowing you said it,” Geralt replied, meeting Jaskier’s gaze.</p><p>The music teacher flashed a smile, his face coloring, and leaned to rest his head over Geralt’s shoulder. When it was time to eat, Geralt marveled at all the food on their table. There was a time he never would have thought this possible. They had covered just about every staple for the holiday, along with fresh loaves of bread, and four pies: Jaskier’s pumpkin, raspberry, and two apples.</p><p>Before the Butcher of Blaviken was allowed the honor to carve the turkey, as tradition demanded, the lot of them went round saying what they were thankful for. Roach, Danek, and Dara, were thankful for each other, family, and their blessings in life.</p><p>“I’m thankful everyone is here tonight, and for this delicious food I can’t wait to eat,” Cirilla said, “and I’m thankful for Geralt, for taking me in. I wouldn’t have any of this if it wasn’t for him.”</p><p>Geralt wished she had opted to sit beside him, instead of across, so he could squeeze her into a hug and tell her how much he loved her.</p><p>“Jaskier?” Roach said.</p><p>“Right. Tough act to follow there, Princess Cirilla,” he said jestingly. “Well, I’m thankful for my livelihood, my music, all the new friends I’ve made round this table tonight; my dear friend Yennefer, whom I hope to introduce to you all one day. And I’m thankful for Geralt.” </p><p>Blue eyes appraised a man who shied from attention. Geralt wondered if Cirilla and Jaskier had conspired to make him break down over dinner. “A man whose company and acceptance came at the time I needed it most.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Geralt said. He covered Jaskier’s palm which found his leg. Silence presided over the table.</p><p>“I guess I can’t say I’m thankful for all of you and just be done, huh?” Geralt said, earning Roach’s deadpan shake of the head. It was worth a try.</p><p>“Alright. I’m thankful,” he began, feeling more awkward and ineloquent than ever, “to have a sister like Roach, she always has my back. A nephew like Dara, he always has Ciri’s, and a brother-in-law like Danek, for being good to my sister.”</p><p>Geralt frowned and considered further, grateful for the space to finish. He never was good at these things.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt said. “I’m thankful you could join us tonight, in my… humble home, and I hope we’ll spend more holidays together.”</p><p>He eyeballed the music teacher, their clasped fingers tightening. Geralt could smell how much Jaskier wanted to kiss him at that moment. But he had one last thing to say.</p><p>“Most importantly,” Geralt added, “I’m thankful for every one of Cirilla’s smiles. I lost count today after one hundred and fifty--” The table erupted with chuckles. “But, it’s the only time I feel like I’m doing this thing right, so, Ciri… I just want to say, you’re the best kid any parent could ask for, and you make me proud to be your dad. Thanks for choosing me.”</p><p>Cirilla rose from her place to come to his side, crying softly by the time she arrived. Geralt gave her a hug, saying, “Come on, let’s eat.”</p><p>“These are good tears,” she said quickly. “I won’t break anything, don’t worry.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Geralt set to work on carving up the turkey, hoping that little statement would go over Jaskier’s head. He found the music teacher beholding him more tenderly than ever.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>They regaled over dinner, exchanging stories, and cleanup was a team effort. Jaskier, having completely forgotten with all the excitement of the day, distributed the presents he’d brought. Geralt saw they ranged from quaint, like the books for Ciri, to downright expensive, like the wine for Roach and Danek.</p><p>He played everyone a bit of music as they unwinded with warm drinks and more tales, crowding the living room that was to be Geralt’s bedroom later. Geralt noticed, while he had some craft beer (his gift from Jaskier), that the music teacher only played well known little tunes to entertain. He would have asked Jaskier to play his own material but, knowing what he did of the man’s difficult hiatus, Geralt thought better of it for now. </p><p>With a big yawn, Jaskier put down his instrument and checked the time. “Would you look at that,” he said. “It’s later than I thought. I think I’d better head back home.”</p><p>“Nooo!” Dara and Cirilla said in unison.</p><p>Geralt’s eyes widened beneath a frown as he watched Roach say, with an enviable casualness, “Just spend the night. You’re too tired to drive safely. Geralt, the couch pulls out, doesn’t it?”</p><p>He stared at her. She was serious. “It does.”</p><p>“Then, it’s settled.” Roach smirked, saying to Jaskier, “We’ve hijacked the bedrooms, but they do the same thing when they come to our house, you know.”</p><p>Geralt scoffed from his position. “Your <i>ranch</i>,” he lectured, “is half the size of this neighborhood. Let’s not get into the house.”</p><p>“Good heavens, that does sound lovely,” Jaskier said. “Christmas at yours, then? I’ll bring my one friend.”</p><p>All except Geralt laughed. He turned his attention toward Jaskier. The music teacher asked, with a singular look, if staying the night was alright. Geralt decidedly gave a subtle nod, considering he lacked the willpower to deny those blue eyes at that moment.</p><p>Ciri had a sleeping bag he could personally make do with. An hour later and the queue for the one bathroom was just about over. Jaskier swam in one of Geralt’s Boston Celtics t-shirts and sat in an enviable blanket nest on the pullout couch, while the man of the house kept the bathroom looking respectable, to keep up with six people having come through.</p><p>He washed up once he was done and removed his contacts out of habit, only to remember Jaskier still didn’t know.</p><p>“Fuck.” </p><p>Geralt didn’t like sleeping in them but one night wouldn’t hurt. He did not feel ready to show Jaskier he was unnatural. Geralt didn’t want to scare him, not after how well today had gone. They might need another holiday under their belt, at the very least, for him to open up about essentially breaking the law. Thus, Geralt put the colored contacts back in and returned to the living room to sort the sleeping bag.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Geralt asked stretched on the floor, his head resting on a tucked arm.</p><p>“We took hundreds of pictures tonight,” Jaskier replied, “and I don’t think I will ever get through them, but I love all of them.”</p><p>Geralt understood Cirilla plaguing him every fifteen minutes since Jaskier arrived for pictures. He was surprised she had been conspiring with Jaskier but it diffused a soft affection through him.</p><p>“How much did you bribe my kid for that inside job?”</p><p>“Only all my love!” Jaskier reproached. “Though she got a wonderful one of you and I. Look.”</p><p>Geralt turned over to see one he had deliberately posed beside Jaskier for, during dinner, and he was convinced he ruined the picture where Jaskier redeemed it with his luminous smile and regard.</p><p>At length Jaskier put the phone away, the living room in semi-darkness save for the outside lights coming faintly through the window, and laid down.</p><p>“Did you mean it earlier,” he murmured, “when you said you want to spend more holidays together?”</p><p>“I did.” Geralt glanced in Jaskier’s direction, remembering Roach’s words from that morning, at odds with his deep secret. His throat ran dry at the audible uptick in Jaskier’s heartbeat, yet he managed to add, “If you wanted we could… go out. Some other time. Together.”</p><p>The only sound was Jaskier’s pulse. Geralt listened to its steadiness, like a hummingbird trapped in Jaskier's chest, trying to escape.</p><p>“I really like you, Geralt,” Jaskier finally said. “And I would love to go out again. It’s just…”</p><p>Geralt waited in silence, not knowing what to expect, and steeling himself for rejection.</p><p>“I have a lot of questions,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“I like you, too." Geralt swallowed thickly. "I’ll tell you the truth, if you ask.”</p><p>“Any question?”</p><p>“Yes.” Geralt stared at the ceiling and heard Jaskier shift to face him.</p><p>“How did you become Cirilla’s guardian?”</p><p>“I knew her parents,” Geralt replied, frowning at the unexpected but reasonable question. “Her mom especially well, and the grandparents. A long time ago, before Ciri was born, I did her dad a favor. I didn’t know but, he added me to her birth records, after the grandparents. Next of kin, in a sense. Parents died when Ciri was a baby.” </p><p>Geralt wasn’t even aware of her birth when it happened. “Then, her grandparents were killed. She spent some time in the foster system. But… they had some connections. Small time. They tracked me down, and I met Ciri for the first time. First thing she told me was she didn’t want to go back to the system.” </p><p>He huffed. “I didn’t want to take her in, with the kind of life I led. Made no sense for a kid unless the plan was to starve. Ciri insisted. Ten years old, and I couldn’t get her or the case worker off my back. So, I stepped up.”</p><p>With help, largely from Roach, who told him point blank he was not taking Ciri in without finding a better place to live and work. Some days he wondered why she didn’t just take the kid, but now he was glad she didn’t.</p><p>“Wow,” Jaskier blew air out. “That’s heavy, Geralt, that’s…”</p><p>“It’s the best decision I’ve ever made,” Geralt said. “Kid deserves the world. I just gotta teach her how to fight it, for when things get tough.”</p><p>“You will,” Jaskier said tenderly. “You make me believe in being a father, you know.” He gave a soft laugh. “All my life, I spurned the idea of it, for so many reasons. But there is a beauty to it, isn’t there?”</p><p>“She makes me a better person.”</p><p>“I just have one more question,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“Only one?” Geralt shifted to see him in the dark, finding the music teacher’s eyes on him.</p><p>“Well, I’ve got loads more,” he pouted, “but only one more for tonight.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Will you come up here on the couch and hold me, until I fall asleep?” Jaskier raised himself on an elbow. The longing was written plainly across his beauteous features.</p><p>Geralt pulled out of the sleeping bag and climbed beside Jaskier, giving the music teacher his right side, so as to conceal his irregular heart rate.</p><p>“Hey,” Jaskier complained, snuggling in, “I wanted to listen to your heart.”</p><p>“This side is bigger,” Geralt said soothingly, and whether Jaskier believed him, or was too tired to argue, was left up in the air. The music teacher was soon asleep and Geralt decided maybe the couch was big enough for two after all.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Jaskier looked innocent in his sleep. Geralt roused first and watched the soft lines of his face melting into peaceful rest. His eyelashes were long, his hair smelled of sweets from the previous day, and he seemed at ease sleeping into Geralt, who was fairly sure Jaskier hadn’t moved all night, though perhaps it was due to there not being much room on the couch for it. Geralt wondered if he should climb down to return to the sleeping bag. Jaskier had wanted to be held until falling asleep, but Geralt had closed his eyes the moment the music teacher’s breathing steadied, and he couldn’t remember the rest.</p><p>The apartment dozed on. Geralt could tell everyone’s breathing apart. Danek and Dara both snored. Ciri was silent, and Roach sometimes talked in her sleep. Jaskier stirred with a deep, content breath, and a soft groan. His hand smoothed round Geralt’s belly and his bare legs tangled. It wasn’t long before a series of kisses were strewn over a square, stubbled jaw.</p><p>“Good morning,” Jaskier said, eyes pulling open.</p><p>“Morning.”</p><p>“You are like an electric blanket. A human furnace.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“I love your virile warmth, Geralt, I must say it suits me very well.”</p><p>What Geralt loved was this moment, its simplicity and intimacy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had it and now, he wondered what he did without such a connection.</p><p>“You hum in your sleep,” Geralt answered, a fondness coming to him.</p><p>“Yes, so I’m told.”</p><p>“It’s almost like you’re singing.”</p><p>Jaskier huffed a soft laugh, raised himself up a few inches, and stole Geralt’s lips for his own. He caressed Jaskier's smooth face in his palm and earned hands over his chest. While Geralt was content with a cuddle, his counterpart's temperature increased after a few minutes. Their kissing deepened, a wrestle of lips and a tug of tongues to the rhythm of shallow breaths. Geralt saw an opportunity to stroke Jaskier’s hair and his fingers carded evenly through chestnut locks, fisted, and pulled on the back. Jaskier shuddered. A hardness ensued, making Geralt aware he only wore boxers with the borrowed t-shirt.</p><p>He smelled the need on Jaskier as it reared with strength. He considered stopping, but in the moment, he found he didn't want to leave Jaskier hanging. Jaskier hooked his leg over Geralt's hips to instigate a rut. Their mouths worked ravenously. When Geralt cuffed his rear with both hands, finding it as perfect and firm as the rest of him, Jaskier moaned. The muted sound made Geralt tent visibly. He began to ache from the urgency, the way Jaskier took his own liberties and yanked his ashen strands hard enough to release the tie.</p><p>It took a hand to slide down Jaskier’s undergarments to reveal him, and another to free himself. They collided heatedly, using each other’s mouths to drown out ensuing moans, of which Jaskier had his fair share. Geralt thought he might combust. The sensitivity of the continued friction and the moisture made his muscles clench. Jaskier grew more desperate so Geralt met him roughly until his body went tense. He bit into Geralt’s neck and rippled intensely, yet quietly, with pleasure. Once his limbs relaxed a hand curled around Geralt and coaxed him to his limit, a few moments later.</p><p>They stared at each other, breathing unevenly from endeavoring to keep quiet in such a position. “Fuck,” Jaskier said, kissing Geralt, a sleepy, dopey smile taking hold of his face.</p><p>Geralt felt too relaxed to resist. They laid there a few more minutes before a sound caught his sensitive attention. Dara’s breathing had deepened and his father stopped snoring as well. They were awake. Sensing Geralt withdraw, Jaskier's mouth turned into his signature pout. Geralt prayed for strength.</p><p>“I demand more kisses,” Jaskier said.</p><p>Geralt obliged, giving him a few more, and then he rose to pull himself together. A silent cleanup ensued. He was the first one to hit the shower and change into clothes left out the previous night, so he could quickly get to work. Geralt returned to the living room and eyeballed the couch, making sure there was no remaining evidence of their tryst. Jaskier was back in his own clothes, though he seemed attached to the borrowed Celtics t-shirt.</p><p>“Very Irish,” Geralt joked in a monotone, going to make a pot of coffee.</p><p>“I did wonder if it was loaned to me on purpose,” Jaskier replied.</p><p>“It’s the first thing I saw,” Geralt informed him. He leaned against the kitchen sink, set out two mugs, and waited for the coffee to finish. </p><p>Jaskier came over to put his hands territorially around the sink and trap Geralt. He looked rosier than ever, nosing tenderly into him and clamoring for yet another kiss. </p><p>“Don’t get too greedy,” Geralt replied, obliging nonetheless with an arm around the teacher. He pulled away after a few moments, cocked his head to one side, as though listening for an internal voice, and warned, “Ciri is awake.”</p><p>“No, she isn’t,” Jaskier scoffed. “I’d have heard her. You’re just making excuses.”</p><p>Geralt wasn’t given a chance to defend himself. Cirilla was always quiet on her feet. Jaskier nearly jumped out of his skin when she crept into the kitchen and called them out.</p><p>“Get a room, you two,” she said playfully.</p><p>“Yep, she is wide awake,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“Want some breakfast, kiddo?” Geralt asked her.</p><p>They all did. Later, Jaskier made ready to leave and offered to drop Geralt to work, since he lived close to Blaviken. They all hugged goodbye, some farewell, and the guitar was loaded back into the car. </p><p>Geralt remained quiet during the ride and Jaskier chatted happily along as usual, leaning across every so often to give Geralt a peck, which was always returned. He stole a piece of Geralt each time. When they reached the Blaviken lot, Jaskier came out from his side for a parting embrace and promises to meet again soon. Geralt willingly returned the squeeze, wondering if he would ever come to feel worthy of this man, should he hold on tightly enough.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>CIRILLA</b>
</p><p>The three weeks in December preceding Winter Break always seemed to drag. The anticipation for the days off made it difficult to put any importance to class time or assignments, even for Ciri, who didn’t mind school too much, especially now that she had someone to hang out with. </p><p>Meeting up with Adon in the music room was routine by now and, when he was not there, they ate in the cafeteria together. The majority of his friends were sophomores, like he was supposed to have been. It made Cirilla feel reasonably cool sitting with them now and then, and they seemed for the most part, harmless.</p><p>Cahir stared at her silently a lot. He was strange, usually getting in trouble for carrying a pocket knife and flicking it out. Even when it was confiscated, a new one always appeared somewhere on his person within a few days.</p><p>Ciri was confident he and Fringilla, who seemed oddly settled by his antics, had been dating since about the eighth grade at another school. They made out a little too much for Ciri’s comfort. Thankfully, Adon seemed good at diverting her attention elsewhere anytime they did. </p><p>He was, like his sister Marilka had said, a bit of a dork, but Adon was sweet to Ciri. He always walked her to her locker, and played her music at lunch sometimes; his guitar skills were, in her opinion, actually pretty good; he made her playlists, and hung around after school to talk to her, even when she had tutoring or another activity keeping her.</p><p>Late one afternoon, she retrieved the member discount card from Geralt to purchase tampons, along with other tidbits he was probably better off not trying to buy for her, unless the goal was for Ciri to die of eternal embarrassment. After paying, Ciri tucked the items in her backpack and made a little list, while waiting for him, of food he could get them later. When he planned to buy groceries, Geralt usually only asked her to write down anything she wanted to eat. He found her scribbling at a table, and eased across from her with a groan. Ciri turned the sheet over to reveal her wishes.</p><p>“That’s it?” Geralt frowned at the three items.</p><p>Ciri shrugged, leaving the rest up to him. Geralt was better at figuring out what they actually needed every week. “I can’t think of anything else.” </p><p>“You already get whatever else you needed?”</p><p>Ciri nodded and Geralt asked for her pen. He added, in his blunt, capital scrawl, more items to the list. Milk, eggs, bread, cheese, juice, fruit. Ciri stared at him while he worked.</p><p>“Geralt?” she said aloud, earning a low hum. “How do you know if a boy likes you?”</p><p>“You don’t. Wait, what?” Geralt cast her a sharp look. “What boy?”</p><p>“You know what, nevermind,” Ciri quickly said, “let’s go get dinner.”</p><p>“No, hold on.” Geralt sighed, put down the pen. </p><p>Ciri thought he looked like he was in some kind of pain, though the expression smoothed back into his usual, placid frown. </p><p>“A boy,” he said carefully, “will find any excuse to talk to you. Keep your attention. Try to impress you. Remember stuff you say, really little stuff you won’t remember having said. Or, he’ll just tell you he likes you.”</p><p>“Oh,” Ciri pursed her lips, trying not to smile. “Not very subtle.”</p><p>“Boys are not subtle,” Geralt confirmed. “If he really likes you, he’ll respect it when you say ‘no’. And if he doesn’t, I’m going to snap his ne—”</p><p>“Geralt, please!” she laughed. “So aggressive.”</p><p>“Look, kid, I trust you,” Geralt said. “I won’t sit here and lecture you. You’re plenty smart. Just… don't do anything you think is wrong, or don't feel ready for. Listen to your gut to know the difference. Always trust it.”</p><p>“I will,” Ciri replied, actually appreciative of that. </p><p>This conversation could have been ten times more awkward. She knew Geralt wanted to say more, but he kept himself in check, and went back to the grocery list. He wrote KALE and underlined aggressively. Ciri giggled, feeling sorry for the ensuing vegetables.</p><p>“And he’ll treat you like royalty,” Geralt said. “Spill his secrets like he has no filter around you.”</p><p>Ciri assessed that, tilting her head at her guardian. “Is that how Mr. Pankratz acts around you?”</p><p>Geralt stared at her thoughtfully. “Actually, yes,” he said, adding, after considering, “Hmm. Fuck.”</p><p>“I overheard him telling another teacher about the ‘lovely’ and ‘wondrous’ Thanksgiving he had with just the ‘best people’,” she said, smiling broadly. “I might have barfed a little bit, it was so sweet.”</p><p>Geralt leaned back in his seat, looking pleased with the information. “He is a walking exclamation mark. A well-dressed one.”</p><p>“You two are cute together,” she said. “You should ask him to be your boyfriend.”</p><p>“Hey,” Geralt warned.</p><p>“What? You said you like him. Did that change?”</p><p>“No. But,” Geralt paused, “he doesn’t know. What we are.”</p><p>“So, tell him.”</p><p>“It’s not that simple, Cirilla.”</p><p>“If he really likes you I’m pretty sure he won’t care that your eyes glow in the dark.”</p><p>Geralt showed half a smile. “<i>That’s</i> how you know a boy likes you.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Adon waited until the last day before Winter Break after school to tell Cirilla he liked her. His breath was fogging visibly in the frosty air, snow and students all around them, as he leaned over to kiss her. They hung out after school with Cahir and Fringilla, and talked about finding a way to see each other either during the break, or in the new year, maybe for the fireworks.<p>She was relieved once the break actually started, though she missed seeing Adon and was delighted by his constant, never ending texting. Ciri didn’t think she would be up to much for the Winter Break when her Aunt Roach called, asking if she wanted to spend Christmas in Portsmouth with them. Ciri hastily agreed, even after Roach suggested asking Geralt if it was okay for her to come. That’s when it hit.</p><p>“Geralt won’t be able to come, Auntie Roach,” Ciri said worriedly. “He always works extra when I don’t have school.”</p><p>“I know, sweetheart.” Roach sighed. “I can understand if you want to stay in Boston. We’re coming down for New Years Eve like usual, so we would see each other then. But… Geralt was the one who suggested you spend Christmas with us.”</p><p>“Why would he do that?”</p><p>“Sweetie,” Roach said, “both Danek and I will be home, you have a room here, and it might be more fun…”</p><p>“I want to come, Auntie Roach,” Ciri said, getting a little upset, “I just don’t want Geralt to be lonely. Thanksgiving was so fun because we were all together. I don’t like having to choose between you and him.”</p><p>“I know, sweetheart. Why don’t you give it some thought?”</p><p>“I’ll talk to Geralt,” Ciri said. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know.”</p><p>“I’ll pick you up from the bus station, if you want to come, just tell me when you want to arrive, alright?”</p><p>“Alright. Bye, Auntie Roach. Love you.”</p><p>“Bye, sweetheart. Love you, too.”</p><p>Ciri looked around her room and realized the talk made her more upset than expected. She sighed and went to tidy up the knocked over items. She tried waking up early the following day but failed, sleeping through mid-morning and rising to find Geralt’s door closed. </p><p>Ciri cracked it open and found him sprawled on his front like usual, blankets covering most of him save for his bare shoulders. He was up a few hours later, crossing into the kitchen with a black hood pulled tragically on his head. Cirilla hopped out of her room and went after him, finding him desperately invested in making coffee.</p><p>“Auntie Roach called me last night, Geralt,” Cirilla said. “She said you asked her to have me over for Christmas.”</p><p>Geralt yawned, waiting for her to make a point, or ask a question. When she didn’t, he said in a low, gravelly voice, “You don’t want to?”</p><p>“Do you want me to go?”</p><p>“I want you to have a nice Christmas,” Geralt said. “You love Roach, and your cousin. What’s the matter?”</p><p>“I don’t want to go by myself,” Ciri said.</p><p>Geralt frowned like his brain was trying to catch up. “I don’t understand. Do you want to stay here?”</p><p>“I want us both to go, Geralt.”</p><p>“Ciri,” he sighed deeply, turning away to pour his coffee. He still looked partly asleep. “You know I have to work.”</p><p>“I know.” Ciri crossed her arms over her chest and sat down. “It’s just so unfair.”</p><p>“Life’s not--”</p><p>“Fair, yeah, I know,” she huffed.</p><p>Geralt quieted and studied her. He drank his coffee, seeming unaffected by its temperature and looked thoughtful for a while. </p><p>“I haven’t found a shift on Christmas Day,” he offered tamely, “if you’d rather stay. We can do something. Whatever you want, I’ll take you somewhere nice. But... the days leading up, and after, I won’t be home much, kiddo. And I don’t like leaving you here by yourself.”</p><p>Ciri sighed, completely torn. “I know that’s why you want me to go. You don’t actually want me to go.”</p><p>Geralt shook his head. “Figured you’d have more fun up at the ranch.”</p><p>“I just hate that I have to choose,” she said. “And won’t you be sad here, all alone?”</p><p>“I’ve been alone a long time, Ciri. What’s a few more days?”</p><p>“Don’t say that,” she scolded, “I’m going to cry.”</p><p>“Sorry.” Geralt went to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. So, what’s it gonna be?”</p><p>“I’ll go on one condition,” Cirilla decided. “If you find a shift on Christmas Day, you can’t take it. And you can’t spend it by yourself, either.” Geralt frowned and set down his mug. “And I want to see fireworks on New Years Eve and you have to be there.”</p><p>“That’s four conditions,” Geralt said.</p><p>“And I’ll FaceTime you all day on Christmas Day if you even think about being by yourself.”</p><p>Geralt smiled partially. “Okay, so five. You should probably do that,” he said, “when you’re opening presents.”</p><p>“Do we have a deal?”</p><p>“Yeah, kiddo.” He kissed her atop the head. “Go call your aunt back.”</p><p>Ciri rose to go do that, but not before giving Geralt a hug.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Because she was under sixteen, Geralt had to come with her on the bus to New Hampshire. They took an early one from the South Station Bus Terminal and sat side by side. She read <i>Wuthering Heights</i> for twenty or so minutes of the hour and half ride, or looked out the window while Geralt had his eyes closed. He eventually stirred and opened the bag with his work uniform in it, since he had come directly from work to meet her.<p>Ciri watched him rummage and pull out a gift bag in classic Christmas gold. In the years prior he’d usually just ask what she wanted a few months in advance and quietly procure it. Her computer had been for Christmas when she was thirteen. Ciri couldn’t remember him asking this year and she stared at him as he handed the gift bag to her.</p><p>“For me?” she asked.</p><p>Geralt nodded. Ciri looked inside and saw several gifts wrapped, a small box at the very top.</p><p>“What’s the little one?” she said, fishing it out.</p><p>“I was going to wait,” Geralt said, “until you were a little older. But, I think you should have it. Open it.”</p><p>Ciri didn’t need to be told twice. And the other gifts, suspiciously shaped like books, could wait. It was a jewelry box, inside it, a familiar wolf medallion. A memory returned to her. She was ten years old, in an office, a case worker quietly telling her there might be someone her family knew, willing to take her in. She wouldn’t have to be in the foster system. She could have a stable home. The man she was taken to see after a while was a ghost of the Geralt sitting beside her now.</p><p>It was summer, the Boston heat blazing and making her skin prickle. They drove from Hyde Park to a construction site near the Seaport District around lunch.  Workers everywhere were on their break, a sea of neon and tools. Ciri remembered being disappointed when she first saw Geralt, wondering how the dusty giant with a white beard translated into a stable home. He wore a hard hat, a scowl, and the wolf medallion hung around his neck.</p><p>“I told you,” Geralt had growled no sooner than he’d seen the case worker, “to stop coming here, lady.”</p><p>“I have Cirilla with me,” the case worker said. “You have to see her, at least once. It’s what her grandmother, Calanthe, would have wanted.”</p><p>Ciri recalled the aggressive way he got in the woman’s face, snarling much like the beast he sported round his neck, “I can’t take care of a goddamn kid. I got no money. She’s going to starve.”</p><p>“I’m already starving,” Ciri felt compelled to say, in her little voice. “Same thing at the last foster house. They treated the dog better.” Geralt set his eyes on her for the first time, and they were hard. “I can’t go back there. I just want one home.” </p><p>Something flickered in him then, and Ciri never forgot it, even after he walked away, his hands balled into fists, as he told the case worker to ‘find someone else’. She saw the wolf medallion again, for about a year after Geralt finally became her guardian. And then he stopped wearing it, though she hadn’t noticed just when, until this moment it was presented to her.</p><p>“My father,” he said presently, as the bus moved along, “forged this, for my brothers and I, when we were boys.”</p><p>“You used to wear it. Why did you stop?”</p><p>“I wanted you to have it, someday,” Geralt replied. “It’s been a part of me since I was your age. Younger, even. I like to think it will keep you safe.”</p><p>“Did it keep you safe?”</p><p>“It granted me passage,” he said, “in a lot of spaces. Both among humans and mutants.”</p><p>Ciri pulled it around her neck and stared at it with a smile, thumbing the carving. “I won’t lose it,” she said, looking up to Geralt. “Promise.”</p><p>He put his arm around her, and the remainder of the ride passed in what felt like a blink of an eye, as Ciri thought about everything which had led her to this moment. Roach was waiting by her car at the station in New Hampshire, and she smiled at both of them. Geralt gave Ciri a big hug before hopping on a bus right back to Boston, promising to see her in a couple of days.</p><p>“I’ll miss him,” Ciri admitted to her aunt once they were in the car. “I know he has to work so much because of me.”</p><p>“Geralt loves you,” Roach said sternly, “I can guarantee he’s thinking about how to make it different next year, and have time to spend the holiday with you.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ciri sighed, looking out the window. “I love him, too.” She thumbed the Christmas present around her neck and felt, for a moment, like Geralt was right in the car with them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belong</a>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>JASKIER</b>
</p><p>Consistent paid time off was a highlight of teaching. Five years he’d done it and, for as much as he adored his students, and teaching them a wonderful art, Jaskier loved the holidays. A few days before the break, he held a gathering at his place, just a few friends and their instruments, wine, music, and laughs. </p><p>Yennefer asked him that night whether he was interested in driving out of state with her for Christmas. They’d gone to see her mother and father the previous year, a nice time all around. He didn’t have an answer for her this year, some part of him holding out on the hope Geralt would remember the things he’d said during the last holiday. </p><p>While things seemed to move quickly between them, in reality Jaskier didn’t physically see Geralt after Thanksgiving. They’d entered the awkward stage of early dating too quickly. Without reassurance, in the absence of the other, it was easy to second guess the things that were said, that were yet to be believed wholly. </p><p>Geralt, he learned, was the kind of practical man who wouldn’t pick up his phone and call without a reason. It left Jaskier yearning, more often than not, to hear his low voice, even if it was just to talk about how riveting the Whole Foods meat counter was. At least the man answered his calls. Jaskier learned the best way to time them, when Geralt wasn’t working or asleep, though it had taken some trial and much error.</p><p>A few days before the holiday he phoned Geralt to ask if he was free anytime soon.</p><p>“We should go on a date,” Jaskier said, finding himself quickly adding, “if you’re not too tired, of course, and if you want. Been a couple of weeks since I last saw you, and… I miss you.”</p><p>“I’ve been working. I’m sorry.” Geralt sighed deeply, sounding it. “I miss you too.”</p><p>Funny, the way four little words righted everything. “There’s no need to apologize,” Jaskier said, smiling into the phone.</p><p>“Let’s go on that date,” Geralt said. “I’m free on Sunday. You want me to plan it?”</p><p>“Lovely! Don’t worry,” Jaskier said. “I’ve got just the thing for us.”</p><p>They agreed to meet downtown, at half past five. Jaskier arrived early and decided to wait for Geralt inside the Explorateur Café. He ordered a coffee, foregoing a pastry because he knew he wouldn’t stop at one, and updated Geralt with a text. Outside, the city was covered with fresh snow, cars slushing down Tremont Street with glistening tires. Jaskier took a booth-end seat by the window and lost himself to his thoughts while he waited.</p><p>He could not put a name to what he and Geralt were just yet, perhaps because neither one of them really knew. But there was a mutual fondness there. He’d gleaned it in the way Geralt relaxed around him, and looked at him. Jaskier, inevitably, was quite sure he liked Geralt more than the other way around. A romantic and lover like him ended up in these situations more often than not, and while he’d resented this aspect of his nature once, he came to accept it. </p><p>It did lead Jaskier to wonder just what Geralt had learned to accept about himself over time. He trusted Geralt, to an extent, and he was aware there was still much he was not privy to, either because Geralt did not feel comfortable sharing, or simply because Jaskier didn’t need to know. In particular, Geralt was by far one of the gentlest people Jaskier had romantically gravitated toward in years. A part of him worried it was a cover, an act, and that Geralt would show his true colors one day when Jaskier was already hopelessly his, with no way out. Jaskier shuddered to think of a man like that as being abusive.</p><p>A great outline came up the street from behind the café and made its way over. Jaskier’s gaze found the outline of Geralt’s tired but determined face. He decided the man was too preoccupied, busy, and dedicated to his daughter, to be evil. Geralt entered the French coffeehouse and pulled down his hood. The slightly wary expression on his face, like he didn’t intentionally set foot in places like this if he could help it, brought a smile to Jaskier. </p><p>“Geralt.” Jaskier stood to make himself noticeable. A few heads turned at the call, including the intended, and Geralt made his way over to the outer seat. Jaskier came out from his place in the booth to meet him. “There you are, and just in time.”</p><p>Geralt surprised him and wound a strong arm around Jaskier to claim a kiss. Jaskier’s eyes widened pleasantly and then closed, savoring the contrast of Geralt’s warm lips yet cool cheeks. His tongue came out to play and Jaskier welcomed it gladly.</p><p>“Hi Jaskier.” Geralt finally withdrew and searched his face, looking calm and somewhat relieved. “I’ve missed you.”</p><p>“Ah, well, I-I have missed you, too,” Jaskier said, smiling, laughing, not knowing what to do with himself, or how to reduce the urge to melt in those beefy arms. “Shall we sit down?”</p><p>“Sure.” Geralt removed his jacket and drew the chair back, easing into it. “What are you drinking?”</p><p>“Oh, this is just a Macchiato,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“Can I get you another one?”</p><p>A hand went through his hair at that and Jaskier paused, giving Geralt a smile. “Only if you get yourself one,” he said. “You’d better warm up while you can, we’re going to be outside for a bit.”</p><p>Geralt removed his Red Sox winter hat to reveal his smoothed, flaxen mane. Jaskier stared openly, delighted the man was more comfortable doing something so simple.</p><p>“What did you have in mind?” Geralt asked, clarifying, “For the date.”</p><p>“A few things,” Jaskier promptly said. “One is a surprise. Then, I thought we might go and enjoy the Christmas tree lighting show. Interested?”</p><p>Geralt hadn’t looked excited about a ‘surprise’ but he seemed to be game for the rest. “We can grab a bite, along the way,” he suggested. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll get your Macchiato.”</p><p>“Alright, handsome.”</p><p>“Sit tight.”</p><p>“I won’t move a muscle,” Jaskier promised and watched him go. </p><p>Geralt cut through the café, going up to the counter on the opposite end, and Jaskier leaned back into his seat with a sigh. People, he noticed for the first time, stared at Geralt. He turned heads and attracted attention from a varied host of onlookers. Jaskier couldn’t decide if it was because he was so imposing, or so bloody handsome.</p><p>“Two minutes,” Geralt announced once he returned with their order number. “What are you thinking about?” </p><p>The look on Jaskier’s face must have been more thoughtful and dreamy than the music teacher realized.</p><p>“How ridiculously glad I am you could make it tonight.”</p><p>“I wish,” Geralt said thoughtfully, “we had more time together. It’s nice when I get to see you.”</p><p>Jaskier’s face crinkled into adoration. “Is it?”</p><p>“It’s less lonely when you are with me.”</p><p>Jaskier leaned forward and took Geralt’s hand in his own, encouraging him to go on. It was so rare the man opened up unprompted, Jaskier had to give him his full attention.</p><p>“I love Ciri to death. She’s my whole world,” Geralt said, “and I wouldn’t trade being her dad for anything. But…”</p><p>“It’s okay, Geralt,” Jaskier said softly.</p><p>“Sometimes I wish there was someone else there to see how amazing she is. Someone to share the moments with, you know?”</p><p>While Cirilla served as the frame for what Geralt was saying, Jaskier knew what he intended to convey. Loneliness was part of the reason he loved so easily and became attached so quickly, even to the wrong sort. Where Jaskier couldn’t help himself, Geralt had shown an incredible amount of self-restraint.</p><p>Their coffees came, breaking the intimacy of the moment, and Jaskier didn’t have more than a smile ‘thanks’ for the waitress.</p><p>“How is Cirilla?” Jaskier said, a hand returning to interlink with Geralt’s free one.</p><p>“She went up to Portsmouth,” Geralt said.</p><p>“Oh? Is she spending the holiday with Roach and Danek?”</p><p>Geralt nodded and drank his coffee, suddenly looking very glum.</p><p>“Geralt?” Jaskier began. “Don’t tell me you’re spending the holiday working.”</p><p>“Day before and after,” Geralt said.</p><p>“But that means you’ll be all alone.” Jaskier frowned at him, not understanding why Geralt would deliberately want to be on his lonesome. He could understand if his daughter was staying home, and they did something there as a family. But to send Ciri off and have no plans to work?</p><p>“Do you think we could,” Geralt faltered, staring at his coffee, “just for a few hours, if you’re around, you know… um...”</p><p>“Geralt, you’re not saying anything. What, spend Christmas together?”</p><p>“If you have time,” Geralt said, looking into his eyes. “I can understand if you’re busy.”</p><p>“Are you joking?” Jaskier cried. “Geralt, I have nothing planned, precisely because I’d hoped we’d get a chance to see each other again for the holiday. I feel bad cheating your own daughter of your company, but there is no question about it. You’re coming to mine.” Jaskier decided it was perfect. “And we’ll watch movies and bake cookies, and have dinner and spend some quality time together. I think we’re in order for that, don’t you?”</p><p>Geralt made no reply. He only smiled, and Jaskier wanted to covet the expression.</p><p>“It’s settled, then.” A good thing, he thought, as he’d already gotten a present for Geralt.</p><p>“I can bring some groceries. If that helps.”</p><p>“No, no,” Jaskier said. “You just bring yourself in all of your glory and I will arrange for the rest.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Jaskier took those broad features in his hands and kissed Geralt on the nose. He was looking far too earnest over there and it was irresistible.</p><p>“You’re very welcome, though there is no need to thank me. I love being with you. And now, if you are sufficiently warmed up, I think it’s time we got going.”</p><p>“The surprise, huh?” Geralt said, finishing his coffee. He rose and drew his jacket and hat back on. “Let me get that for you.” </p><p>The coat Jaskier planned to shrug back into was taken and Geralt helped him in it. A small gesture that pleased the music teacher, as it was not every day this happened. They emerged from the café and made it down the street, crossing into the Boston Common Park. It was illuminated with Christmas lights and blanketed white all over.</p><p>“Where are you taking me?” Geralt asked and Jaskier had to laugh at his impatient curiosity.</p><p>“You’ll see,” he replied. “Know I’ve wanted someone with whom to do this ever since I arrived in this frozen city and I will not miss my opportunity.”</p><p>There was a blip of sound. Blue and red lights flashed across from them, a police car casually patrolling the park. It pulled up just a few meters in front of them and a figure emerged. Jaskier saw the officer was coming toward them and he smiled.</p><p>“Hello gentlemen,” Yennefer said. “Enjoying the evening?”</p><p>“Well, it’d be a lot better, Officer Vengerberg,” Jaskier said, “if we could make our way unimpeded to Frog Pond.”</p><p>“Have you been drinking tonight, sir?” she joked.</p><p>“Not yet,” Jaskier replied, “and I can make no promises.”</p><p>Beside him, he felt Geralt stiffen. Jaskier cast him a glance and touched his arm, saying, “This is my good friend, Yennefer. She’s been with the BPD a few years now but we go way back. Yen, this is Geralt.”</p><p>Yennefer extended a gloved hand. “Heard a lot about you, Geralt. It’s a pleasure.”</p><p>Geralt shook it briefly. “Hi.”</p><p>He looked and felt tense, hardly making eye contact, aside from looking warily over to the police car in the distance. Jaskier scooted closer to the man and smoothed a hand over Geralt’s back in an unconscious attempt to soothe him.</p><p>“Right, so Jaskie,” Yennefer said, “you coming upstate for Christmas or shall I tell Mum it’s just me?”</p><p>“I am sorry, my darling, I’m afraid it’s just you this year,” Jaskier said. “But send her my love, as always.”</p><p>Yennefer looked between Jaskier and Geralt, made a smug face, and said, “Alright, cool. Won’t hold you up then.”</p><p>Jaskier went to her and they shared a kiss on each cheek. </p><p>“Bye babes, enjoy your night,” she said.</p><p>“You too, officer darling,” Jaskier replied.</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Geralt.”</p><p>Yennefer wouldn’t receive a verbal answer. They pulled away and Jaskier took Geralt’s hand into his own.</p><p>“She’s really lovely,” he said. “And we’re in a band together.”</p><p>“The duo,” Geralt stated. “She’s the other half.”</p><p>“That’s right, you remembered!” Jaskier beamed. “She plays the harp. Voice of an angel, that one.”</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>“You alright?” Jaskier asked, looking him over. “You seemed to go a bit, erm, tense for a while there.”</p><p>“Uniforms,” Geralt sighed. “They put me on edge.”</p><p>Jaskier hadn’t been aware of that. “What’s the story there?”</p><p>Geralt shook his head. </p><p>“You don’t want to talk about it?”</p><p>“Not tonight,” Geralt answered, looking at him. “I just want to see you smile tonight.”</p><p>Jaskier accepted that. He smiled for Geralt, going so far as to press a fond kiss to his cheek.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>In hindsight, Jaskier should have revealed the surprise to Geralt before the only choice was to put on ice-skates and get onto Frog Pond. He could still remember how to keep his balance and vaguely move around enough not to look foolish, but it became clear within the first five minutes of Geralt’s arms windmilling, that it was not the case for his date. Half an hour into it and Geralt was on his bum, again. This time, he hung his head and Jaskier thought perhaps he had pushed the man to his limit.</p><p>He skated warily over to Geralt and slowed enough to come down on one knee. “Uh oh,” Jaskier said. “You look like you’ve had just about enough.” He began to worry this was a terrible idea after all. Geralt covered his face with a gloved hand and Jaskier grimaced when his great shoulders began to tremble. “G-Geralt? Are you alright? I only wanted to have a bit of fun, but we can leave if you’re not enjoying yourself. Geralt?”</p><p>Jaskier tentatively peeled one of Geralt’s fingers away from his face, actually expecting to find him sobbing. Instead, his gut eased with relief when he saw Geralt was hiding laughter. He noticed for the first time some of Geralt's teeth were crooked, and he felt immediately and fervently endeared to the imperfection. </p><p>“The fucking three year olds,” Geralt said, looking up at him, “have more balance than I do.”</p><p>Case in point, a child zoomed past them with a squeal and Jaskier grinned. “Yes, well,” he said, “they do have, what, two hundred pounds less of muscle on you?”</p><p>Geralt lowered his head again with another illegally adorable chuckle. Yennefer needed to arrest this man because he was killing Jaskier. “One of them has been taunting me, I swear.”</p><p>“Which one?” gasped Jaskier. “Point him out so I can torment him. I shall defend your honor with my life. Now up, my White Wolf, another go, shall we?”</p><p>Geralt took the offered hand and came up to his knees. They toppled twice, with plenty of laughter, before they were finally both on the ice. Jaskier remained steadier than Geralt.</p><p>“You are literally holding on for dear life,” Jaskier found himself saying, given the way Geralt’s fingers practically dug into his coat. “I’m not going to let you go but we’re going nowhere fast like this.”</p><p>“You go any faster and my ass is on the ice again.”</p><p>“Better than your face, I suppose,” Jaskier said.</p><p>Geralt was so focused and so terribly wobbly, it was hard to keep the laughter at bay. A skater zoomed past and Geralt flinched enough to lose his balance. He took Jaskier down with him and they went flat, cracking up again.</p><p>“Two grown men,” Jaskier huffed when he sat up, “falling all over themselves.”</p><p>“This was a great idea,” Geralt answered. His cheeks looked flushed from the cold and exertion.</p><p>Jaskier helped him into sitting. “Have you never done this?”</p><p>“I take Ciri once in a while,” Geralt admitted, “but I don’t usually hit the ice. Too embarrassing.”</p><p>“Nonsense,” Jaskier said. “You may not be a swan but you certainly get up every time you’re down.”</p><p>Geralt shrugged. “Guess I’m kinda solid that way.”</p><p>That he was, Jaskier thought, taking both his hands and kissing him for their final attempt at getting up. This time they lasted a good ten minutes on the ice and even got in some speed. Exhausted and starving, Jaskier suggested they get a move on, if Geralt’s bum could handle walking.</p><p>“It’s still intact,” Geralt said in answer.</p><p>Jaskier gave it a healthy pat and was satisfied with his assessment. “You do have a great ass, you know. So, I was thinking,” he said, as they removed and returned their skates, “we could head to Quincy Market since it’s fairly close. The Christmas tree lighting should be a bit later on, so we’d have some time to kill.”</p><p>“Let’s do it,” Geralt answered swiftly. “Are you hungry? I could eat.”</p><p>“Yes, so could I.” Jaskier fell in beside Geralt, who put an arm over his shoulders. The music teacher found his waist and burrowed close as they crossed out of the frosty park. “I much prefer the city during the summer, though it is beautiful around this time of the year, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It is. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place.”</p><p>“Is that because of Cirilla?”</p><p>“Yes and no.” Geralt led him to the cross walk, waiting for the light to turn. “I wouldn’t have stayed past another contract or two, if it weren’t for Ciri. But I was here a couple of years before becoming her guardian.”</p><p>“Will you stay after she goes to college?”</p><p>“Depends on where she goes.”</p><p>“Oh, dear.” Jaskier stared at his chiseled face. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those parents who will relocate to where their child is accepted. I understand the complexities of in-state versus out-of-state tuition costs, but still.”</p><p>Geralt snorted. “I doubt she’d like that very much. No, I wouldn’t do that,” he clarified, “unless it was her idea or something to that extent. But it’s important for me to be able to get to her, in case she needs me.”</p><p>Jaskier slipped his hand in Geralt’s back pocket as they walked on. “And if she wanted you to do your own thing, once she’s old enough, and say, retire in a village across Europe somewhere, would you do it?” He realized this was a very specific question designed to see whether Geralt was the sort to move for love of another beside his daughter.</p><p>“I don’t have a passport,” Geralt grunted.</p><p>“Hah, very funny.” The ensuing silence told him it wasn't a joke. Jaskier stared, dumbfounded. “Oh, my God, you're serious. Geralt, are you really one of those Americans without a passport?”</p><p>Geralt hid a smile at that. “Yeah, but the kid has one. That’s the important thing.”</p><p>“Well, you still haven’t answered my question.”</p><p>They crossed past the State House with its golden dome, inching closer to Government Center.</p><p>“It doesn’t sound like something Cirilla would ask of me,” Geralt said, “but I am aware she won’t be a kid forever. I’ll deal with my life when the time for it comes.”</p><p>“Until then, she is your focus.”</p><p>“Are you okay with that?” Geralt asked, surprising Jaskier.</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I be, Geralt?” he smiled. “She’s your daughter. Anyway, it seems you’re more than happy to remain in Boston another few years for the time being. That’s stable enough for me, believe me.”</p><p>“You want to stay as well?”</p><p>“I do,” Jaskier said. “I have a life here, the likes of which I haven’t had since Ireland. While uprooting for love is noble sometimes it’s nice to be grounded somewhere, regardless of where life takes you.”</p><p>“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be grounded.”</p><p>“Yes.” Jaskier turned to Geralt at the next light they had to wait to cross. “And just hearing about how settled you are here, and plan to be in the foreseeable future is, I admit, appealing to me.”</p><p>“You wanna keep seeing each other?” Geralt asked.</p><p>A warmth came to Jaskier and he let it encompass him. “More than anything,” Jaskier said. “If you’ll have me, I would like to keep at this and see where it could take us. You in?”</p><p>Geralt didn’t hesitate. “Fuck yes.” </p><p>The light changed but they did not move. It seemed as good a place as any to kiss once again.</p><p>Quincy Market was terribly crowded, though Geralt managed to secure them hearty sandwiches and beers, which they devoured at a table packed as tightly as the rest of the hall. After a restroom break, they emerged onto the back of Faneuil Hall where the biggest possible Christmas tree awaited outside. The show, with music and lights, was beautiful. Even more so was being held by Geralt through it, for Jaskier felt in his embrace a promise for something beautiful and lasting.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Jaskier could hardly sleep on Christmas Eve, so very excited he was for the day to come. He’d welcomed Geralt to spend the night, seeing as he worked the day after, and Jaskier lived a five minute car-ride away from Blaviken. </p><p>Convenience aside, more time alone meant, and Jaskier hoped, they could have sex for as long as they liked. The look on Yennefer’s face after he’d recounted Thanksgiving to her, and happily confirmed her and her colleagues’ reading of Geralt’s ‘big cock energy’ was very accurate, remained a memory he reflected on with a smile.</p><p>Jaskier was convinced Geralt didn’t know how irresistible he was. That a man like that should remain so tame about initiating intercourse was a true test of Jaskier’s willpower.</p><p>He had a bit more class than to rip the man’s clothes off as soon as the bell rang on Christmas Day. Jaskier promptly let him in downstairs and went to fetch the matching Santa Claus hat procured for Geralt when the apartment bell chimed a second time.</p><p>“Merry Christmas!” Jaskier said, and popped confetti at a very confused Geralt. “This is for you, before you even enter.” The New England Patriots beanie was replaced with a Santa hat and a hug was delivered. </p><p>“Hey. Thanks. Merry--” Geralt spit out some confetti. “Christmas.”</p><p>He entered, bearing things Jaskier belatedly noticed in his excitement: bags and flowers.</p><p>“Are those for me?”</p><p>Geralt handed them over. “I hope you like them. It’s not typical for Christmas and they don’t sell buttercups, so I tried to get something classy.”</p><p>Roses, all of them yellow. No one, in all his life, had ever gotten Jaskier flowers. He shut the door and looked at them for a long time, going through Geralt’s mental reasoning, the significance and the play on his name. The thought behind such an act.</p><p>“Uh,” Geralt shifted nervously, “I didn’t know if you had a vase, so I kinda got one--”</p><p>Jaskier grabbed and kissed him. He loved them, the thought, the smell of the flowers, the alleged vase they even came with. It was so unexpectedly sweet, Jaskier was at a loss for words.</p><p>“I guess you like them,” Geralt decided once Jaskier pulled away.</p><p>“Don’t be silly,” Jaskier huffed. “I love them. This is certainly a first.”</p><p>“No way.”</p><p>“Oh, yes.” Jaskier led him in, hastily wiping the stray tear which had managed to sneak past his defenses. “Though I’ve spent a fortune on flowers for many, many lovers in my lifetime. Speaking of, Geralt, what is all that stuff?”</p><p>Two bags of God knew what. “You didn’t tell me what I could bring to help out, so I kind of just grabbed stuff. And I got you a Christmas present.”</p><p>“Are you on a mission to take my heart captive?”</p><p>“Something like that.”</p><p>He’d brought a vase, as mentioned, for the flowers, wherever Jaskier could possibly want to keep them. He’d brought taper candles because clearly, he was more romantic than Jaskier expected. Vegetables, for side dishes. Geralt must have rightly guessed Jaskier wasn’t actually cooking, rather progressively warming up really nicely premade appetizers and casseroles until they were satisfied.</p><p>“Mother of God, Geralt,” Jaskier said. “How much did this all cost you?”</p><p>“Way less, with my discount,” he replied with a half smile. “Don’t you want to have a candlelit dinner?”</p><p>“More and more each passing moment, believe me.”</p><p>Jaskier felt he might have actually hit the lottery with this man. Geralt removed his outerwear and finally, Jaskier gave him a quick tour of the place. He thought it was a studio apartment until Jaskier took him to the ‘bedroom’.</p><p>“Fuck,” Geralt said, looking impressed with the mini-recording studio. The walls had been altered with soundproof padding and there was quite a bit going on in there. “This is where you make your music, huh?”</p><p>“Yes. More often than not I’m in here with friends with our headphones on, just working for hours,” Jaskier said. “If I ever manage to get a bigger place, I’ll have a proper room to keep my bed. For now, it works out there where it is.”</p><p>“This place is huge,” Geralt remarked. Jaskier remembered it was his first time here. “I assume you’re not renting.”</p><p>“I am not,” Jaskier confirmed. “Though I couldn’t do this on my teacher’s salary, make no mistake.”</p><p>“Your folks?”</p><p>Jaskier nodded. “An inheritance, which I tend to do my best to ignore, until I’m scared and alone with no one to turn to. I hate to say it, but music has never been lucrative, and it’s not why I do it, anyway. I needed help a few years ago and this was the result.”</p><p>“No shame in asking when you need it,” Geralt said sternly. “No matter where it comes from. You said you and your folks don’t get on too well. Least they haven’t cut you off.”</p><p>“My mother is more generous than my father,” Jaskier said. “This is her doing, not his.”</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>“But enough of that. I,” Jaskier chirped, "am baking you cookies.”</p><p>“Really?” Geralt looked tentatively happy about that and he followed Jaskier into the kitchen.</p><p>They spend the afternoon grazing, listening to music, Christmas films on the television whether either one of them was watching. Jaskier made far too many cookies and they ate them all. Cirilla called from Portsmouth and Geralt looked appeased talking to her. Jaskier could tell he missed her. When they had but to wait for their final meal to be ready, the time for presents was declared. They nibbled on snacks and drank, relocating to the Christmas tree.</p><p>Jaskier got him a Canada Goose winter jacket in black, without fur lining the hood, and it fit like nobody’s business when Geralt tried it on. There was a grooming kit, which Geralt cradled like he worried it was too fancy for him, and a classic Dad mug complete with a joke.</p><p>“Ciri’s going to love this,” Geralt said with a smile. He leaned in and they kissed. “Thank you.”</p><p>“You’re very welcome,” Jaskier said, happy to see everything had gone over well.</p><p>For him, Geralt came with vinyl, smartly gift wrapped. Jaskier had a record player so that was no issue, but he couldn’t remember discussing musical taste with Geralt and for a moment, he thought the man had made the classic move of getting Jaskier something <i>he</i> personally liked. Not a bad idea, but overdone, in Jaskier’s experience. </p><p>“Open it,” Geralt urged.</p><p>Jaskier huffed at his impatience and worked through the packaging. His heart leapt to his throat at the album. </p><p>“Geralt,” he whispered, “is this…?”</p><p>“Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers,” Geralt said. “You had a song from this album playing in your classroom the night we met. I sat outside a few moments before you arrived.” He remembered, Jaskier realized. “I knew for certain you were a jazz fan when we went to Wally’s.”</p><p>“This is really...” Jaskier shook his head, looking at Geralt, who cared enough to buy a meaningful present. “It’s… I… Thank you. I don’t have this on vinyl.”</p><p>“Good. I was afraid you might.”</p><p>“I don’t.” Jaskier pushed past the folds and assessed the record fondly. “I can’t believe you remembered.” Certainly, Jaskier hadn’t forgotten the moment he first laid eyes on Geralt, but it hit differently coming from someone he thought didn’t like him as much. The record was, without a doubt, a game changer.</p><p>“I got you something else,” Geralt said. “You probably have a hundred of them, but I hope this one will see some ideas, when the music comes back to you again.”</p><p>It was a simple black notebook, customized with a gold embroidered ‘J’, and it was the most perfect thing Jaskier had ever seen. </p><p>Jaskier’s thumb smoothed over the letter and he flipped through the blank pages, so hopeful for them.</p><p>“You are very thoughtful, Geralt,” Jaskier said soberly. His gifts could not compare. “For once, I don’t know what to say.”</p><p>“Merry Christmas, then,” Geralt replied, taking his face to impart a kiss.</p><p>Jaskier put the notebook aside, leaned into the kiss, and ran his hands across Geralt’s chest until he pulled the man’s sweater over his head. All at once, Jaskier resigned himself to his desire, the often simmering embers he reserved for Geralt suddenly roaring in his face and pooling like molten lava across his chest, in his belly, and at the base of his spine, swelling eagerly in his groin. Dinner, he decided then and there, could wait.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter rating: Explicit</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>GERALT</b>
</p><p>Geralt marveled at the sight before him. He was three slicked fingers deep into Jaskier and they were both hard. The music teacher, whose deceptively soft face was a front for the hairy hunk he really was underneath, looked flushed and was squirming for more, so Geralt slid on a condom and Jaskier shifted forward, arms wrapping around Geralt’s shoulders to kiss him urgently.</p><p>He knew where this was heading when Jaskier started undressing them both. Geralt had hesitated for only a few seconds, but then, not wanting to disappoint Jaskier, who was so wonderful, he went with it. Geralt did want it, with Jaskier, though it had not always been the case with others and he was perfectly aware of it and capable of making of the distinction.</p><p>Geralt threw Jaskier’s legs over his shoulders and aligned to ease in. The music teacher accepted him vocally, his deep breaths working his chest up and down. Geralt  leaned down more and kissed him, limbs curling around him whilst he shifted into a rut. Jaskier throbbed against his lower abdomen, the friction and flesh slapping orchestrated by the rhythm of his thrusts. Geralt adjusted a pillow beneath Jaskier. He seized the sheets, leaning closer, thrusting balls deep and precisely.</p><p>Jaskier clawed at Geralt's backside, carving meaty thighs and strong hips. He gasped how good it was, repeated Geralt’s name, and then his eyes rolled with a string of pleasure curses. Geralt felt hot. His body went through the motions and certainly, he experienced the sensitive knots yearning to unleash with pleasure, the goosebumps and the pleasant warmth of being present with Jaskier. </p><p>But it was different. He found himself seeing Jaskier in a new light, and talking quietly to him, asking and taking both physical and verbal cues. Harder, when Jaskier said, relentlessly so.</p><p>“S-slow down, wait,” Jaskier gasped, his smile splitting through the folds of pleasure. “I won’t last like this.”</p><p>They repositioned into sitting on the bed, and that turned into Geralt’s back meeting the headboard. Jaskier took his hands and raised them above his head, leaving Geralt to admire the roll of hips as the teacher rode him. It was beautiful and fucking hypnotizing. He grunted with a different kind pleasure washing over him.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Jaskier looked both riled up and smug. His hands relocated to Geralt’s chest and dug.</p><p>Geralt suppressed a sound and tried to hold out a little longer, suddenly finding it difficult to ignore the need to plummet toward the cliff.</p><p>“You like that?” Jaskier asked.</p><p>“Yes.” Geralt took him by the waist and willed more ardor to his movements. “Don’t stop.”</p><p>They moaned collectively and Jaskier came first, hard, the warm spray coating Geralt’s sinews. The convulsions and clenching coaxed Geralt to his limit. </p><p>He pulled in closer to Jaskier and released generously, their mouths almost immediately interconnecting to contain his moans. Hot pleasure rippled through him and it was minutes before Jaskier’s fervent grinding slowed.</p><p>Geralt sighed, stroking Jaskier’s back, caressing his limbs and kissing him. He drew forth to kiss into the teacher’s neck and found satisfaction and a smile on Jaskier’s face. </p><p>Once he caught his breath, Geralt slipped out, and resumed his doting. They frolicked and caressed long enough for both of them to stand back up. Jaskier wanted it from behind. Geralt gave him that, and thighs raised sideways, until Jaskier screamed. </p><p>The music teacher spread on his back while Geralt busied himself with tissues and discarding another soiled condom. The bin was decorated with them. A hand came to graze his arm and Geralt turned to find Jaskier’s soft face appraising him.</p><p>“I loved that. You,” Jaskier chided, “didn’t tell me you fuck so well.”</p><p>Geralt chuckled, leaning in to kiss Jaskier in response. It never occurred to him to say such a thing to people and Jaskier certainly wasn’t expected to ask. To his credit, the music teacher had breathily managed to inquire earlier, while they tore their clothes off, whether Geralt had a preference. In his experience, his answer always made him the top. No doubt, something about his appearance.</p><p>“Did you enjoy that?” Jaskier’s hands carded into Geralt’s hair. The top knot had come loose, smooth strands framing his face and giving Jaskier much to play with.</p><p>“I did,” Geralt said. “I liked pleasing you.”</p><p>“Well, I certainly hope I did some pleasing of my own,” Jaskier said with a laugh. When Geralt made no response, he sat up and rested his chin on Geralt’s bare shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t have a preference?”</p><p>“They’re equal to me. Don’t worry about it.” He met Jaskier’s eye and cupped his cheek, finding himself longing for a cuddle. It might have made it easier to reveal to Jaskier he wasn’t, in his day-to-day, entirely interested in sex, though he cherished being able to spend time together and he had certainly wanted it here.</p><p>“We’ll have to see about that, then,” Jaskier said, still on the subject. “You’re going to bottom after dinner and I won’t take no for an answer.”</p><p>“Sure,” Geralt relented. “I’ll clean up.” </p><p>He forced Jaskier into his arms and the music teacher seemed happy to be held. They shared more kisses and nuzzles.</p><p>“I like your chest,” Geralt decided.</p><p>Jaskier gave a bemused smile. “Thank you?”</p><p>“Nice and hairy.”</p><p>“Well,” Jaskier grinned, caressing him, “you’re going have to explain to me how you manage to look like <i>that</i> with your insane schedule. Seriously, do you hit the gym in the middle of the night? Is that what it takes to be God-like?”</p><p>Geralt had never set foot in a gym a day in his life. “Genes, I guess,” he said, and it was partly true. A side effect of his mutation and one of the ways his true strength manifested. “You think the food is ready?” he asked to quickly change the topic.</p><p>“It must be, by now,” Jaskier said. “Hang on, I’ll get you a hot towel.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Geralt watched him rise and drift around naked, his butt as cute as the rest of him. </p><p>Jaskier really was virile, nicely built himself, though a little pasty. There went those genes, Geralt supposed. He gave Jaskier's bum a towel smack and watched it bloom with color, whilst its owner swore Geralt would pay for that one.</p><p>They dressed, Geralt washed his hands, and Jaskier turned the music back up, moving about with newfound purpose and a livelier mood.</p><p>“Can I help?” Geralt said, advancing the stove and pausing to deliver him a kiss on the cheek.</p><p>“Yes, please.” Jaskier handed him mits and transferred the roast chicken. “I’ll get the rest. Will you light the candles?”</p><p>“Sure.” </p><p>They moved comfortably about each other, their rhythm and touches unexpectedly, yet harmoniously domestic. Jaskier took pictures of the dining table. He talked Geralt into taking selfies, with and without the Santa hats. Geralt was confident a horrible, startled candid of him wound up in there, but he let Jaskier have his fun. This was turning into one of the best days of his life and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.</p><p>The conversation over dinner centered on family, Jaskier revealing some of the things he had told Roach, a few he believed Geralt was unaware of. Geralt felt he might have to eventually tell Jaskier what, as a mutant, he could do. The remarkable hearing could be a good place to start.</p><p>“Did you celebrate Christmas growing up?” Jaskier asked.</p><p>“Not really,” Geralt answered. “But I liked the winter season. My father used to come up with activities around the farm to keep me and my brothers busy.”</p><p>“I didn’t know you had brothers.” Jaskier sounded surprised. “I thought Roach was the only sibling.”</p><p>“I grew up with foster brothers,” Geralt said. “I don’t know where they are anymore.”</p><p>“Roach is not your sibling by blood either, then?”</p><p>“No.” Geralt set his gaze on his food. “The man who raised me took me in. Where I come from, blood doesn’t make a family. I met Roach here many years ago, and we’ve had each other’s backs since.”</p><p>“Geralt, just where were you born?” Jaskier said. “I can’t believe this is the first time I’m asking.”</p><p>Geralt gave him a smile. “Poland,” he grunted, “but I can’t tell you exactly where because I don’t know.”</p><p>“You were an orphan,” Jaskier said softly.</p><p>“After a while. I had a mother I used to be able to remember, but..." He didn’t think she’d wanted him. “I can’t see her face anymore.”</p><p>Jaskier looked after a minute like things were falling into place. He said, “It seems we both, to varying degrees, have complex pasts. I can understand, in a way, the love you bear for Cirilla. It is what you have known.”</p><p>“Yes, it is,” Geralt said.</p><p>“Do you ever think about more children?”</p><p>Geralt considered the question, along with the expression on Jaskier’s face. He didn’t want to read into anything but Jaskier had to have his reasons for asking.</p><p>“I haven’t thought about it,” Geralt said carefully. “But… given a stabler life, and when Ciri gets older, maybe.” He studied the smile forming on Jaskier’s face, wanting to mirror it and yet doubting himself. “You, uh, think you want kids?”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Jaskier waved off easily. “It doesn’t usually cross my mind.”</p><p>“But it just did.”</p><p>“Yes. It did just now. I suppose having a son would be nice,” he went on, “but I don’t know that I could do it alone.”</p><p>“Could or would?” Geralt said.</p><p>“Fine. Would,” Jaskier sighed. “I would prefer to raise a son in a home with another parent, who can love and nurture him, without condition. Instead of finding any possible way there is to make him believe he is a disappointment.”</p><p>Geralt felt uneasy at that answer. A pull worked slowly into his cheek. “Jaskier, you don't have to answer if you'd rather not, but, were you abused as a kid?”</p><p>Jaskier’s back straightened and he considered his utensils with a strange expression. His eyes went elsewhere, away from the apartment in the South End of Boston on Christmas.</p><p>“Never physically,” Jaskier answered, “but, yes. That is my experience.”</p><p>An ache snuck into Geralt’s chest and expanded, turning into the pain which accompanied the want to comfort another.</p><p>“Your father?” Geralt asked.</p><p>“And mother, to an extent.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Geralt frowned. “That must have been difficult growing up.”</p><p>“It is what it is, Geralt.” Jaskier returned to himself and smiled. “Other than throwing my ability to recognize real love and affection quite haywire, I think I turned out alright.”</p><p>“You’re perfect, Jaskier,” Geralt said, more forcefully than intended, startling the smile from Jaskier. It was Geralt’s turn to lower his gaze. “Sorry,” he spoke gently. “It’s just, you’re special to me, alright?”</p><p>“A-Alright…”</p><p>Geralt resigned himself to his dinner, thinking he would have to put off opening up. He couldn’t, after learning what he just had. He could wait. Jaskier reached for his arm and gave him a soft smile.</p><p>“Thank you,” Jaskier said, “for being good to me. I feel spoiled to have you in my life.”</p><p>Jaskier leaned in and Geralt followed suit to accept the kiss. The part of him still hiding who he was felt undeserving of it, but the rest of him, quietly longing for companionship and love, accepted it wholeheartedly.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Geralt knelt prepped on all fours, bottomless on the bed, and waited for Jaskier to do something. They had cleaned up after dinner and cozied up to eggnog and another Christmas movie to properly welcome the night. The credits were still rolling when the kissing and grinding began. Geralt lost track of what came on the television next as they relocated to the bed for more of that, clothes once more removed along the way.</p><p>When it occurred to him to turn around and work out just what Jaskier was waiting for, a hand promptly smacked him on the ass. Geralt’s eyes widened at the shockingly pleasant sting, with the intention to round on Jaskier that would never come. The music teacher spanked again, spread, and dove tongue first.</p><p>“Fuck!” Geralt jerked, face instantly meeting the sheets. </p><p>Jaskier lapped him up and he nosed around back there and did things to Geralt which the mutant, in his very infrequent sexual encounters, had come close to forgetting. His body loosened of its own accord at Jaskier’s sinful ministrations and Geralt moaned.</p><p>“Yes, I think we’ve found what you like,” Jaskier purred, servicing him with another smack.</p><p>Geralt quaked, made a string of incoherent grunts, and he just took it: tongue, mouth, fingers, sheathed cock. He held on to anything he could, any part of the bed, of Jaskier’s arms and shoulders, and he came quickly, while Jaskier was still taut within him. </p><p>They repositioned and stared each other in the eye, much like earlier, though Jaskier seemed to Geralt well suited in the new position. When he made another terrible mess of himself, Jaskier praised him, and Geralt felt he would get hard all over again from those sweet words.</p><p>Another round saw the music teacher spent and Geralt, for a long while, couldn’t gather his wits.</p><p>Jaskier definitely knew what the fuck he was doing, and he looked satisfied, even more smug than the first time, and soft-faced. Geralt made a mental note to eventually tell him what needed telling. For now, sleep was calling and he drifted quickly.</p><p>A brushing sensation danced along his brow and eyelids, so light, it did not feel real. It traversed searchingly to his mouth, tracing the curve of his lips. Geralt twitched, shifting partly awake but not enough to be conscious. The curious feather, — hands, he vaguely realized, — walked across from his belly, to his knees, and his feet. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Geralt became aware of two choices: ignore the roaming hand to sleep, or wake up to investigate. The first, more pleasant option won. </p><p>He properly awoke later on, to soft singing and a hand through his hair. Geralt groaned, more soothed than he’d been in what felt like ages. His eyes opened suddenly to find himself in a different position than the sprawl for which he’d opted prior to falling asleep. The singing ceased and Jaskier’s face came in view, big blue eyes vibrant in the morning light.</p><p>“Good morning,” he cooed to Geralt, too softly to match the wide-awake expression he bore. </p><p>Jaskier sat with his back supported by pillows and the headboard, cradling Geralt’s head and shoulders in the warm fuzz of his bare lap. Geralt must have looked confused, or just plain wild, because Jaskier went on to add, “You’ve been out like a light since your head met the pillow.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Geralt closed his eyes, nestling into Jaskier’s belly. The hairs tickled him and encouraged his nosing around. He kissed Jaskier there. “Sleep okay?”</p><p>“Oh, I didn’t get any sleep,” Jaskier said casually.</p><p>Geralt opened his eyes, going still. He frowned. “Fuck, did I snore? I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, no. You were very quiet.” Jaskier's hand grazed Geralt’s face much alike to the little feeling earlier. “It wasn’t your fault. Once in a while, it seems I just can’t get to sleep.”</p><p>“Good thing you’re on vacation,” Geralt said after a moment. He kissed Jaskier’s thigh and was rewarded with another petting through the hair, drawing a low, satisfied growl and making his eyes roll with joy.</p><p>“Geralt?” Jaskier said. “You wear contact lenses.”</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>“Why do you sleep in them?”</p><p>Geralt tried to sound neutral when he said, “I always forget. To take them off.”</p><p>“I am sure I don’t have to tell you that’s bad for you.”</p><p>He made no reply, perfectly content to snuggle on. He liked the way Jaskier smelled.</p><p>“Geralt?” Jaskier ventured again, like his name was a new word he’d learned and was eager to repeat. “Could I ask you to get tested?”</p><p>Geralt listened intently, attention fixed on Jaskier’s pale arms.</p><p>“I manage to work them in fairly regularly, with my last one, thankfully negative, being three, four months ago? Just before we met. It’s just… well, since we’re going to keep each other, I would like to know of anything, and be sure.” Jaskier smoothed Geralt’s hair away from his brow. “For the record, the result won’t change how I feel about you, or my decision to keep seeing each other. Just, will you do it, for me?”</p><p>Geralt straightened a little from the tangle of limbs, taking the request seriously. He might not have trusted health centers with Cirilla’s blood but he was different. He could fend for himself.</p><p>His mutation, he knew, made him immune to the grave illnesses which plagued humans. It made him sterile, too. But he would do it, because Jaskier asked it of him, and because refusing would make keeping his secret mutation worse. A strain on the relationship Geralt didn’t want, not when he already felt terrible over keeping a secret. </p><p>“I’ll do it on my next day off.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Jaskier smiled. “Well, that was easy. I’ll have to show you my latest results.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Geralt said, “I trust you.” </p><p>They shared a kiss but Geralt’s mind was elsewhere.</p><p>“You okay?” Jaskier asked.</p><p>“Yeah, just,” Geralt sat up and inhaled deeply. “It’s what you said. I wonder, Jaskier, if you were to learn something… unfavorable about me, would that change what we have? Would you--” He swallowed thickly. “Would you leave?”</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier said, taking his face and compelling their eyes to meet. “Where is this coming from? Of course it wouldn’t change a thing. Don’t say such things. I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>Geralt silently processed the relief such words brought. Relief, he remarked, but not courage. Not yet. He took Jaskier in his arms and held him.</p><p>“You should know I have never been the one to leave,” Jaskier whispered. “I stay, to my detriment sometimes, but I always stay. Even and especially when I’m unwanted.”</p><p>“I want you, Jaskier.”</p><p>“And what happens when you stop?”</p><p>Geralt saw Jaskier looked apprehensive, like he’d been down a similar road more times than he cared to admit, and was accustomed to picking himself off the ground. He expected, Geralt realized, to be abandoned.</p><p>“Then, I’ll find a way to start again,” Geralt said. </p><p>Jaskier smiled a little into the peck against his cheek.</p><p>“I won’t stop, Jaskier.”</p><p>“Yes, well, we can’t see into the future, can we?”</p><p>Geralt made no reply.</p><p>“If that time ever comes,” Jaskier said, “just… promise me you won’t turn your back on me entirely. It’s always that, which hurts the most, and to tell you the truth, I don’t think I can live through another heartbreak.” He laughed. “My heart may actually give out.”</p><p>Geralt scoffed but he said, “Fine. I promise. I’d rather not imagine my life without you, though. I want you to stick around.”</p><p>“And you’d like to stick around me as well?”</p><p>“Yes. I would.”</p><p>“Does this mean you’d like to get more serious, Geralt?”</p><p>He smiled faintly at the prospect of a relationship, at how much he loved to hear his name come from Jaskier's perfect mouth. “It does. There is much I want to tell you, Jaskier. Open up about, come clean about,” he said. “I haven’t felt this way toward anyone in I can’t remember how long.”</p><p>Jaskier sat up, looking very enthused. “Take as much time as you need, then. We all have our demons and I would never judge you for them,” he said. “And you, my White Wolf, will make a lovely boyfriend.”</p><p>Geralt grunted emphatically at that, brows arcing in hopeful agreement. That word hadn’t been used to describe him in some time. Jaskier kissed him on the jaw and Geralt held him closer, not wanting to let go until he had to. They spent some more time in bed, had sex, and Geralt prepared for work.</p><p>“Would you come by after your shift?” Jaskier asked, robed and endearingly trailing after Geralt the entire time it took to get dressed. “One Christmas, wonderful as it was, isn’t enough for me.”</p><p>“I’m working a double,” Geralt said. “That means all day and overnight, back at it tomorrow.”</p><p>“When did you plan to sleep?”</p><p>“I didn’t,” Geralt replied, quickly learning that was the wrong answer. </p><p>Jaskier wouldn’t take ‘no’, declaring Geralt was coming right back to his apartment after his horrible hours the following morning, and Jaskier would drop him and pick him up from work as many times as necessary until his schedule went back to normal. And all Geralt could do was smile at Jaskier, and go with it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belong</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belong</a>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>CIRILLA</b>
</p><p>Her boots landed in a few unexpected inches of snow and Ciri braved through the slush. Nearly ten days away from home seemed to have gone in the blink of an eye, and yet taken a lifetime. The parking lot was crowded, as usual for this time of the year, and Ciri quickly made her way toward the cleaned sidewalk, checking for ice on which she might slip. A man came around the start of the path, clad in an unfamiliar dark jacket, with the hood drawn and hands in his pocket.</p><p>“Geralt!” Ciri beamed and raced the remaining few feet between them to give him a hug. He caught her with ease, and her feet left the ground. “I missed you so much.”</p><p>“I missed you too, kiddo.” Geralt lowered her with a rare smile. “Have fun at your aunt’s?”</p><p>“Yeah, it was awesome,” Ciri said. “Auntie Roach is going to need the parking pass thingy. I’m so excited for fireworks tonight!” She clung to Geralt’s arm when he set his gaze toward the waving Roach. Ciri admired the brand and fit of his outwear while they walked over. “I like your new jacket. Where did you get it?”</p><p>“It was a gift,” Geralt replied, giving her a mysterious wink. “You really like it?”</p><p>“Yeah, it looks really warm, too.” </p><p>Ciri idled while Geralt greeted the others. They went inside to warm up and have lunch. She loved when they were all together, and she told Geralt about her time in New Hampshire.</p><p>“I wish you were there with us,” Ciri found herself saying more than once. “If I go next year you’re coming with me. Non-negotiable.”</p><p>Geralt looked like he wouldn’t argue with that.</p><p>“What were you up to, these last few days?” Roach asked Geralt.</p><p>Ciri went round to where he sat and encircled him from behind, coming cheek to cheek with her guardian.</p><p>“Worked a lot of shifts,” Geralt answered, “and spent some time with Jaskier.”</p><p>“How’s he doing?” Roach inquired.</p><p>“Good. Jacket was from him,” Geralt told Ciri.</p><p>“That explains the great style,” she replied.</p><p>“Is it okay if he comes for dinner tonight?”</p><p>“Of course,” Roach and Danek said, nearly simultaneously. But it seemed Geralt was asking Ciri, and it took him tilting his chin to meet her too-close eye for her to realize.</p><p>“Duh, Geralt,” Ciri said, “Mr. Pankratz is awesome. I want him to come for the fireworks later, too.”</p><p>Geralt nodded tamely, so Ciri booped his nose. He did it right back. Ever since moving to Roslindale, they tried to dine at some nice place to welcome the new year. The evening’s selection, Sophia’s Grotto, was an Italian place Ciri liked. It was thickly built and always glowing warm, reminding Ciri of a very cozy castle.</p><p>She chatted with Dara about the computer games they’d played at his house over Christmas, while her uncle went up to claim their reservation for a party of six. Geralt brought up the rear, waiting for all to choose a seat before claiming his place. Ciri caught him looking a few times toward the door, and then she became engrossed in Dara’s phone screen.</p><p>Next thing she knew, Geralt was on his feet looking expectant. Handsome Mr. Pankratz waltzed into the restaurant, garbed in his trademark spiff. Geralt went up to the teacher, held out a hand, and they kissed. </p><p>“Hi Mr. Pankratz!” Ciri said at his approach.</p><p>“Cirilla!” Jaskier’s face turned into a grinning emoticon. They shared a happy hug.</p><p>“Me and Geralt like this restaurant for New Years,” she told him immediately. “The food is so good, you’ll see. Come sit with us!”</p><p>Mr. Pankratz quickly obliged, shook hands with Danek and Dara, and kissed Roach on both cheeks.</p><p>“Oh, thank you,” he said, when Geralt helped him out of his coat. “So, I hear you lot had a beautiful, winter wonderland Christmas in Portsmouth. Cirilla, you must give me all the details.”</p><p>“She won’t skimp on them,” Geralt warned. He looked relaxed, sitting next to Mr. Pankratz yet slightly spreading toward him.</p><p>“Because there’s so much to tell,” Ciri quickly defended. “I got to ride some of the horses, which was so fun, and we had Christmas dinner the night before. But we opened presents in the morning…”</p><p>She couldn’t decide if her story was actually riveting, but Mr. Pankratz looked more enraptured than Geralt had. Then again, Geralt was always tired and capable only of minimal reactions most days. Ciri turned her attention to him when their food finally came and mentioned, “So, Geralt told us what you two were up to on Christmas.”</p><p>Mr. Pankratz choked on his drink. Geralt sighed. “Nice try,” he told her, patting the teacher on the back and adding, “She’s bluffing.”</p><p>“I sure hope she is,” Mr. Pankratz said, his face an alarming shade.</p><p>“Seems like you had fun,” Ciri snickered. “You two official yet? I need to know I didn’t leave Boston for ten days for nothing.”</p><p>The family members not spotlighted laughed, while Mr. Pankratz smiled at his food. </p><p>“We’ve… had the conversation,” Geralt began, his manner grave.</p><p>“Answer the question."</p><p>Auntie Roach gave Ciri a high five at that. “Cut to the chase,” she said. “He’s taught you well.”</p><p>“Fine,” Geralt grunted. “Yes.”</p><p>“We’ve come to an understanding,” Mr. Pankrtaz said smoothly, “to enter a more serious relationship, Cirilla. Of course, it would mean a lot to me to have your blessing.” His eyes were admiringly on Geralt when he said, “I know how much he cares about you and I want to respect your wishes.”</p><p>Ciri put down her fork and tossed her hair over a shoulder. “Mr. Pankratz,” she said primly, “my parents died when I was a baby and I only had my grandparents for a little while before they left, too. Do you think I would turn down a chance of potentially having two dads?” </p><p>The table erupted in laughter. Geralt snorted, giving an eye roll.</p><p>“Just sayin’,” Ciri shrugged, “you know, in case you two ever want to get that point. My blessing is all yours, guys.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Mr. Pankratz said. “And it’s Jaskier, from now on, outside of school at least.”</p><p>Ciri grinned, thinking she could live with that.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>The new year came, her hopes for it high. She would turn fifteen in the summer months. Ciri hoped she would make more new friends, through her beloved, quirky Adon. She hoped Geralt and Jaskier would decide they liked each other enough to want to become a family. </p><p>She went back to school, eager to see Adon, in new winter clothes acquired with Auntie Roach over the break. Readjusting to the hours and the workload was always a little difficult, but on a day she had neither tutoring or any extra curricular activity, she asked Geralt if it was okay for her to go over to Adon’s house after school.</p><p>“Try to get home by six,” Geralt told her. “I don’t want you out too long past dark.”</p><p>His ready consent marked the start of her regular visits. Adon lived just off the Blue Line train stop at Maverick, and his room was decorated with band posters. Some days his mom was home. She was nice to Ciri and always made her son walk her back to the train when she left. Other days they were home with Marilka. </p><p>Most of the time they hung out in his room like little maniacs, having fun and letting time fly. She imagined introducing him to Geralt, picturing dinner at her house with Mr. Pankratz. </p><p>The days Cahir and Fringilla joined them at Adon’s weren’t her favorite. Cahir was Adon’s best friend, and while he now spoke more than one word to Ciri when they hung out, he still seemed obsessed with his girlfriend and his pocket knives. </p><p>She learned another of Cahir’s surprising obsessions: mutants.</p><p>“If I had the power to manipulate fire,” Cahir declared passionately one day after school, “I would burn down every high school in the city and all the government buildings.”</p><p>“Dude,” Adon said, with his habitual dopey smile. “You’re crazy.”</p><p>Ciri had previously noticed Adon was very forgiving of the more extreme nonsense Cahir spouted. She frowned at her homework, considering getting her headphones out as Cahir went on to rant about how unfair jailing mutants was. If they went to war against humans, he blazed, they would win.</p><p>“How do you know so much about mutants?” Ciri made the mistake to ask.</p><p>Cahir leered at her and said,  “You don’t know what I’ve seen. I can tell just by looking at a person who is a mutant and who is human.”</p><p>Ciri snorted and went back to her homework.</p><p>“Something funny?” Cahir snapped. </p><p>“Chill out, man,” Adon said.</p><p>“Little smartass,” Cahir continued, “what the hell do you even know about mutants?”</p><p>“I won't grace that with an answer,” Ciri said smugly.</p><p>“Do you even realize there is going to be a war one of these days?”</p><p>“Are you going to enlist,” Ciri smirked, wiggling her fingers, “with your imaginary fire powers?”</p><p>Adon laughed at her joke and lightly shoved her shoulder. “Don’t encourage him babe, he’s crazy.”</p><p>“You think you’re so smart,” Cahir seethed. “Bet you’ve never heard of Magneto.”</p><p>“Of course I have,” Ciri lied.</p><p>“Oh yeah? What’s his power then?” When Ciri didn’t answer, Cahir and Fringilla laughed mockingly. “She probably doesn’t even own a TV. Hey Ciri, I heard your dad bags fucking groceries for a living.”</p><p>Ciri gripped her pen more tightly.</p><p>“Oh, there she is,” Cahir taunted. “You know, I wouldn’t mind being a mutant. Better than being fucking poor.”</p><p>“Man, shut up.” Adon rose and set his guitar aside. “Get your shit, both of you, and leave.”</p><p>Cahir scoffed, and Fringilla made no effort to move. Adon collected their bags, threw the door to his bedroom ajar, and tossed both in the corridor.</p><p>“Are you serious?” Cahir said in disbelief.</p><p>“Get the fuck out of my house,” Adon growled, and Ciri found she was glad when he walked Cahir and Fringilla out of his house, leaving her to wipe the burning sting of shame from her eyes. </p><p>Adon consoled Ciri afterwards, with a hug, sweet words, ice-cream. He told his mom what happened, asking if they could give Ciri a ride back home. But Ciri insisted on taking the train, never wanting to see Cahir’s stupid face again.</p><p>If there was one thing that felt worse than being a mutant, it was being a poor one, keeping a secret.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Valentine’s Day came around. Adon had decorated her locker with so many paper hearts she could barely open it in the morning. Because he couldn’t hang out after school, he came to school with a teddy bear as big as her, and a gift bag full of appropriate trinkets. </p><p>Ciri would have never imagined being this kind of girl. Adon gave her so much attention, and she loved it, but deep down, she worried it was because he thought she was human. She feared he wouldn’t do so much if he knew she was a mutant.</p><p>There was nowhere to put the bear while she went to class, as it hardly fit into spare seats, and Ciri was not willing to abandon it. Adon wanted to go to Band during lunch and texted Ciri to meet her there, saying there was a song he wanted to play her.</p><p>She entered the music room with her stuffed companion and was met with an exclamation.</p><p>“Hey Mr. Pankratz,” Ciri greeted cheerfully.</p><p>“Hello there!” Jaskier beamed at her. “Who is this fine lad?”</p><p>“He doesn’t have a name yet,” Cirilla said, feeling a blush. “Adon got him for me.”</p><p>“Well, that is very sweet,” Jaskier said, “and you are marvelous for toting him about like this.”</p><p>“Do you mind if I leave him here for a little while?” Ciri asked, the idea having just sprung on her. “I’ll come by for him after school before I leave.”</p><p>“Of course. Shall we put him in one of the closets?” Jaskier suggested. “If he fits. I can’t guarantee keeping a constant eye on him, despite his size. A lot of students come through this door.”</p><p>“Sure.” </p><p>They tried to fit the bear in the closet, but it was to no avail. Jaskier opted to settle it on a chair beside his desk and promised Ciri he would be there waiting when she returned.</p><p>She found Mr. Pankratz by the school back exit near his class, supervising dismissal with another teacher. Jaskier was smiling and gesticulating animatedly. She didn’t want to interrupt, opting to go stand by his door and wait.</p><p>Ciri expected to find it locked but it was cracked, slightly open. She entered and saw the bear was gone. Her chest tightened and she searched, knowing all the while something that big shouldn’t be hard to find.</p><p>“Oh, hi, Cirilla!” Jaskier said, upon his return a few minutes later. “Didn’t realize I left it open.”</p><p>“He’s gone, Mr. Pankratz,” Ciri cried. “He was right next to your seat and he’s gone.”</p><p>Ciri was hoping he would tell her the stuffed bear was elsewhere, for safekeeping, but Jaskier was just as puzzled.</p><p>“That can’t be right. He was right here when the bell rang,” he said, searching, “and I only stepped away to supervise the exit. Damn, I should have locked my door…”</p><p>Ciri’s shoulders slumped with disappointment. “I’m gonna go home.”</p><p>“No, hang on,” Jaskier scrambled. “It’s got to be around here somewhere. A stuffed bear that size doesn’t just vanish. A student could have taken it, and I will make it a point to ask the Bards, but for now, let’s try and find it.”</p><p>Ciri didn’t really want to, but she followed after the teacher. </p><p>“I’ll speak to Adon,” Mr. Pankratz said, when they fruitlessly scoured half the first floor, “about where he purchased it. I’m so sorry, Cirilla, if we can’t find it, I’ll get you another. I know it won’t be the same but--”</p><p>Ciri stopped walking suddenly, nearly tripping Mr. Pankratz. They were near her locker and on the floor lay the bear, its stuffy innards carved out and strewn about surrounding it. It looked badly disfigured and tainted with a dark, wet substance. Fake blood.</p><p>“Sweet Mother of God,” Jaskier gasped.</p><p>Ciri felt a lump rise to her throat. A door to a classroom nearby  slammed shut, the startled curse of the teacher inside signaling it was not of their doing.</p><p>Jaskier jumped, though he realized Ciri was getting upset, and he quickly went to put a hand on her shoulder. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said lamely, “this is my fault. I… Do you want to see if there’s any chance of repairing it?”</p><p>“He’s ripped to pieces, Mr. Pankratz,” Ciri cried furiously, the shut lockers nearby clattering almost imperceptibly. She noticed and wiped her face, trying to calm down. “I just want to go home.”</p><p>A look of concern came over Jaskier and he sighed. “Very well. Let me get my coat, and I’ll drop you home,” he said. “We can send Geralt a message to let him know.”</p><p>Ciri could feel his worried glances toward her while he drove. He wanted to say something, she knew, because he was always so chatty, but he didn’t seem to know what.</p><p>“I texted Geralt,” she offered after a bit.</p><p>“Very good,” Jaskier said. “Would you like to go see him before we get out of the area?”</p><p>“I don’t want to bother him.”</p><p>“I’m sure it’s no bother,” Jaskier encouraged. “We could pop by to say hello, perhaps have a bit of lunch.”</p><p>“I don’t want him to see me,” Ciri said, elaborating when Jaskier frowned. “Sad like this, I mean.”</p><p>“Oh, Cirilla.” Jaskier contemplated a red light. “Tell you what. Let’s go to Blaviken, have a coffee. Perhaps do a bit of shopping? It’ll help take your mind off the situation. What say you?”</p><p>“I don’t drink coffee,” Ciri replied.</p><p>“Then, I’ll get you anything your heart desires at Starbucks,” he amended. “Come, it’ll be fun, alright?”</p><p>Ciri yielded. They arrived more quickly at the Blaviken center than she was used to by train. It was, aside from housing posh residences, a massive retail center. They went to Starbucks, as promised, and settled down while Jaskier became engrossed in his phone. Ciri was still unhappy about her sweet bear, but she felt glad Jaskier was with her.</p><p>“Are you sad you can’t hang out with Geralt today?” she asked.</p><p>Jaskier looked up with a smile. “I understand he’s going to be working here the next twelve or more hours,” he said, “so, it’s alright, really. Besides, spending time with you is a rare treat.”</p><p>“As long as no one from school sees us.”</p><p>“Oh dear, hadn’t thought of that. Yes, I suppose I’d have to admit to being in love with your father if anyone did.”</p><p>“Wait,” Ciri frowned, “you’re in love with Geralt?”</p><p>Jaskier, whose expression had grown dreamy and distant, blinked to find Ciri scrutinizing him.</p><p>“O-Oh, did I say that?” he feigned. “Ah, no, well, what I meant is I’d have to tell colleagues that I am seeing a parent, though thankfully not of my own students'--”</p><p>“Uh-huh.” Ciri leaned back in her massive chair. “He doesn’t know either, does he?” Jaskier’s sputtered response was funnier in the moment. “I won’t tell him, if it’s a secret. But he would love to know.”</p><p>“Bit soon, I think,” Jaskier said candidly. “Don’t you?”</p><p>Ciri preferred when adults were upfront with her, as Geralt usually was. She said, “Don’t you feel bad about keeping it secret though?”</p><p>“Awful,” Jaskier answered confidingly. “But I don’t want to overwhelm him. He is becoming more comfortable sharing himself and I would like to foster that. To tell you the truth, I do a lot of the talking, usually. I can’t believe he isn’t sick of the sound of my voice yet.”</p><p>“He’s a good listener.”</p><p>“He is. I do love that about him,” Jaskier said, adding with a smile, “I imagine you can talk to him about anything.”</p><p>“We are kind of bros in that sense,” Ciri said, drawing on Jaskier’s laugh, “but he teaches me a lot, too. Stuff I wouldn’t really think of. He prefers when I ask questions, he’ll answer even the awkward ones without beating around the bush.”</p><p>“He’s a good dad.”</p><p>“I used to wonder,” Ciri smiled wistfully, “what my real dad was like. I noticed I don’t do that anymore. I would want him to be kind of like how Geralt is now. What’s your dad like?”</p><p>“Ugh.” Jaskier shuddered and drank his coffee. “Not nearly as nice as yours, I'm afraid. Do you know those people who think they’re better than everyone else, because they’ve got more money or friends in high places?”</p><p>Sounded disturbingly familiar. Ciri pushed the image of her destroyed bear from her mind, unwilling to entertain the culprit.</p><p>“That’s my father,” Jaskier supplied at her nod. “Last I saw him, he told me he didn’t want to hear from me again. Until, I suppose, I decide to morph into some version of him he can be happy with. We were never close growing up. Not like you and Geralt.”</p><p>“Funny how real parents sometimes aren’t all that.”</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier said fondly, “echoed something similar, once. Blood doesn't always make family, does it?”</p><p>“Not in our house,” Ciri agreed. “My cousin Dara is Uncle Danek’s son, because Auntie Roach can’t have kids. But they’re like this.” She crossed two fingers. “And she’s like a mom to me. Of course me and Geralt are besties.” Jaskier grinned at that. “For us it’s more about who’s there for you at the end of the day, no matter what.” </p><p>She bit her lip, wishing she could tell Mr. Pankratz that she was a mutant. But she knew Geralt, if he hadn’t already, wanted to be the one to reveal it.</p><p>“You have a beautiful family, Cirilla,” he said. “The bond I saw you all share over the holiday left an impression on me. I confess, I want in on that.”</p><p>“Then, you'd better tell Geralt you’re in love with him,” Ciri said, “the sooner you two spill your pressing secrets and accept each other, the better.”</p><p>“Wise words.” Jaskier grabbed his phone. “Now, if I may, I would like to treat you.”</p><p>“Another drink?” Ciri cringed. “Geralt said I better not get any cavities because we pay for my dental visits out of pocket.”</p><p>“No, no,” Jaskier smiled. “I am sure that’s quite enough sugar for one day. I did say we should go shopping, but… what do you think about the spa?”</p><p>Ciri gasped, her eyes wide when his phone screen was turned over, showing a business in Blaviken. She had gone with Roach in Portsmouth and they got their nails done, a beautiful experience. “Are you serious?”</p><p>“It’s the least I can do after neglecting your wonderful bear,” Jaskier said. “And to be honest, I could use a massage.” </p><p>Ciri grinned, completely on board. An hour later found them zen, in matching bathrobes, towels over their hair, and face masks complete with sliced cucumbers over their eyes.</p><p>“Best Valentine's Day ever,” Ciri exhaled.</p><p>“Geralt is going to be so jealous,” Jaskier answered.</p><p>“Honestly, I don’t think he’s ever been to a spa.”</p><p>“Thank goodness I’m his boyfriend then. I must remediate that for your father immediately.”</p><p>The rest of the afternoon elapsed beautifully. With her nails freshly done, Ciri’s face was practically glowing with health, and Jaskier encouraged her to at least help him shop, if she was sure she didn’t want anything else. </p><p>They agreed to ‘pop by’ Whole Foods and try catching Geralt on his break. Jaskier asked Ciri to go first, saying he would put the shopping bags in the car and head back up.</p><p>She literally walked into Geralt as he was making his way from the counter, like clockwork, to scavenge for food.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” he asked with a frown. “I thought you said Jaskier was dropping you home.”</p><p>“Oh, sorry.” Ciri encircled his chest with her arms. “We actually came here for a little bit.” </p><p>Geralt’s tension eased with a hum, and she felt him pat her head. “How are you getting home?”</p><p>“He’s still here,” Ciri pulled away. “He’ll drop me after this.”</p><p>“After what?” Geralt asked, wasting no time to keep marching.</p><p>“We were both just dying to see you.”</p><p>Geralt snorted and she told him where Jaskier went.</p><p>“He took me to the spa, you know.” Ciri made an open fist and showed Geralt. “Like my nails?”</p><p>“Jaskier get the same color?”</p><p>“No. What?” Ciri frowned. “Geralt, stop being weird. Do you like my nails or not?”</p><p>“Yes. Did you say thank you?”</p><p>“I did.” Ciri keenly followed him around Prepared Foods. “I know he didn’t have to. I was kinda having a shitty day at school.”</p><p>Geralt looked sharply at that, asking, “What happened?”</p><p>“Eh, I’m over it,” Ciri said. Cahir, if he did murder her bear, wasn’t worth a second thought. “I’m starving.”</p><p>“Alright, what do you wanna eat?” </p><p>She perused and picked a few things out. They’d just settled down with trays, -- Ciri made Jaskier one, mostly by guessing -- when the music teacher graced the seating area. In his arms, a stuffed bear, nearly the same ridiculous size as the one Adon had gotten Ciri. She rose with a smile on her face.</p><p>“I saw this earlier along the way,” Jaskier said, “and I couldn’t help myself. I know it doesn’t replace Adon’s sentiment, and the color is definitely different, but--”</p><p>“I love him!” Ciri was aware that she was fourteen, not four, but she couldn’t help the genuine delight which split her face just then. She hugged Jaskier, missing the glance he exchanged with Geralt. “Thank you so much.”</p><p>“You’re very welcome, my dear.”</p><p>Ciri pulled out a chair and seated the bear in it. She looked over to find Geralt and Jaskier standing near each other, asking how the other fared in cute, soft tones. It was like they were made for each other. </p><p>Once seated, Jaskier told Geralt with great flourish what they’d been up to. Geralt, who normally attacked his food like it would be his last meal, listened to every detail, glancing quietly between Jaskier and Ciri. </p><p>When finally, Geralt thanked him for looking after his kid, Ciri felt for a second she finally understood how two people could fall in love.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please review additional tags for trigger warnings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>JASKIER</b>
</p><p>Once in a while, after the perfect date, the perfect night together, and the perfect sweet promises of love toward each other, a little voice in the back of Jaskier’s head warned him to leave Geralt while he still could. Before Geralt realized how starved Jaskier was, never letting the phone ring more than twice, always dreading when it was time to part, texting just shy of constant despite knowing Geralt favored in-person interactions.</p><p>Jaskier made it a point to resist the scared voice, though it spoke true when reminding him things always started out going right, before they took a wrong turn, always starting with Jaskier’s fervent adoration for his partners, so much stronger than he received, and ending with his poor treatment.</p><p>He was always the first to say ‘I love you’, and it was no different with Geralt, who had the pleasure of being startled into hearing it candidly on a date. They were at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, one of Jaskier’s favorite places in the city for its Venetian splendor, and upon learning Geralt had never been, Jaskier had felt compelled to take his boyfriend.</p><p>If asked, he couldn’t tell anyone what Geralt might have said which propelled Jaskier to profess his love. It happened at a balcony, overlooking a lush, indoor garden, and he hadn’t been able to help himself. It didn't matter when Geralt did not say it back. Jaskier felt something other than surprise in the way Geralt’s hold around his shoulders tightened for the rest of the visit, and in the way Geralt looked at him, and spilled into his soul that night.</p><p>Moments like that kept the voice at bay. Alone, Jaskier consoled himself by remembering that he’d been through enough exes with similar tendencies, to recognize red flags. Geralt didn’t raise half as many as his previous paramours, though overtime a few things piqued Jaskier’s curiosity.</p><p>Geralt had a noticeably low sex-drive. The act itself when they got going was, in Jaskier’s opinion, nothing short of excellent; Geralt’s stamina and adventurousness -- there wasn’t a space at Jaskier’s apartment left unchristened -- was everything Jaskier could want, and admittedly, they did it on a satisfyingly consistent basis. It just so happened to always be whenever Jaskier initiated.</p><p>Thus, he asked about it, whilst they sat together at the piano one night. Jaskier, who’d been endeavoring to teach Geralt how to play a few notes, wound up putting him in charge of just a few simple keys as he entertained Geralt with a song and wine.</p><p>“Can I ask you something?” Jaskier said softly, earning a hum of consent. “Why is it you’re never the first to initiate sex?”</p><p>Rightfully so, Geralt looked thrown, and his mild swaying and shoulder bumping stilled. “Are you in the mood?”</p><p>Before Jaskier could make a reply, muscles and a broad chest came in view, as Geralt removed his shirt in record time. Somehow Jaskier didn’t doubt his wonderful man would be ready to go, if given another two minutes. He chuckled at that overachieving nature and quickly shook his head. That, right there, was the reason he asked.</p><p>“No, no,” Jaskier said, “please put your shirt back on for now. Much as I loved doing it on the piano that last time,” the glorious bliss was unforgotten, “I am worried it will break.”</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Geralt blinked, slowly easing back into his shirt.</p><p>“There’s nothing wrong, per se,” Jaskier said, “it’s just something I’ve observed. I thought it might be worth talking about, if you are comfortable. I mean, you seem really into it once we get going, but it doesn’t appear you’re ever really keen beforehand. Am I reading this wrong?”</p><p>“No. You aren’t.”</p><p>“Would you prefer if we did it less often?” </p><p>“No, Jaskier.” Geralt turned to him. “Let’s do it as much as you want. Anytime you want. I enjoy it with you.”</p><p>“Have you not enjoyed it with others?”</p><p>“It depends on the person,” he said, after considering the piano in silence. “I don’t go out chasing tail, if that’s what you’re wondering.”</p><p>“Not in the least.” Jaskier frowned, remembering their conversation on HIV, Geralt’s very negative results procured almost exactly when promised. While Jaskier had been cheated on more times than he cared to recount, infidelity was not Geralt’s M.O. “It’s just the initiation, Geralt. I want to know if you aren’t interested in sex.”</p><p>“I’m interested in sex with you,” Geralt said, slowly and clearly.</p><p>“Okay…” Jaskier considered that, and said, “But in general, you aren’t?”</p><p>Geralt lightly shook his head, and it was as much of an answer as Jaskier really needed. He reached a hand to cup Geralt’s beautiful, wonderful, tired face.</p><p>“I understand,” Jaskier said gently. “And so we’re clear, you do enjoy it when we fuck, don’t you? You don’t feel obliged to do it? You know, for me? And it isn’t banal, or repulsive, is it?”</p><p>“I want to do it,” Geralt nodded, “there’s no pressure, and I definitely enjoy it with you. Not repulsed.”</p><p>“Very well,” Jaskier said. “It’s just the desire, then?”</p><p>“Yes. I can live without it. But,” Geralt said, “it’s a little easier for me to follow your lead. When you’re in the mood.”</p><p>“Of course,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“You don’t mind?”</p><p>“No, my love.” Jaskier kissed him on the stubbled jaw. “I am just as driven to fulfill and make you happy, in any way that I can. I am glad you told me, though I wish we could have had this conversation sooner.”</p><p>“I really like being with you, Jaskier,” Geralt said, brushing a hand over Jaskier’s leg. “I didn’t want this to get in the way. I worried it would change things between us.”</p><p>“Listen to me,” Jaskier said, forcing their gazes to meet, “sex is not the reason I am with you. I want all of you, Geralt. It’s okay to open up, but I am counting on you to be honest with me. It’s all I ask.” He looked at his beloved boyfriend searchingly. “I feel safer with you than I have in a very long time. I want the feeling to be mutual.”</p><p>“I’m always honest with you, Jaskier. When you ask me questions.” There was something disquieting about the pause in his words, but then Geralt said, “And the feeling is mutual.” At that, Jaskier opted to be content for the time being.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>February passed in the blink of an eye, Jaskier’s days taking on a new pattern. Because they could not see each other as often as they liked, Jaskier and Geralt compensated in small, unexpected ways. Jaskier opted for evening showers, for time to talk to Geralt early in the morning, one man gearing up for work, the other on the tail end of his shift. Unsurprisingly, so far as Jaskier was concerned, they always had plenty to talk about. </p><p>His afternoons became dedicated to preparing students for upcoming school concerts, holding remedial lessons after school, and every couple of days, venturing to Blaviken for the thirty minutes afforded Geralt, so they could see each other. One weekend out of the two a month they had to themselves, when Geralt wasn’t working overnight, was spent at Jaskier’s place, as Geralt understandably wasn’t keen on leaving Ciri at home by herself more than he was already doing. </p><p>On a cold mid-March morning, as he headed for his car with Geralt on the phone, Jaskier told Geralt out of habit, just before hanging up, that he loved him. </p><p>“I love you too, Jaskier,” Geralt replied. </p><p>The snow came in thick, beautiful flurries. Despite the cold, Jaskier stopped, feeling a blissful warmth surging through him from head to heel. He blinked away what he thought were the crystals of snowflakes from his lashes and sniffled.</p><p>“Uh, are you okay?” Geralt said, when Jaskier hadn’t spoken in some time.</p><p>“Yes, I’m alright,” Jaskier quickly replied. “It’s just the cold making my nose run again. I love you so, very much, Geralt.”</p><p>“I know. Listen, I have something to tell you. It’s... important,” Geralt said. “I’d rather not do it over the phone.”</p><p>“When I see you this weekend, then?” Jaskier said and resumed the trek in his Duck Boots to his car.</p><p>“Yeah. I’m about to get on the train,” Geralt said. “Drive safe. Have a good day, okay?”</p><p>“Thank you, my love.” Jaskier went to school a happy man, eager for the weekend.</p><p>The last time he had Korean barbecue was with Yennefer, far too long ago, and Jaskier went on about it to Geralt until they planned a date. As they drove into Brighton, Jaskier reflected aloud how he only came round these parts of the city for concerts, the surrounding area peppered with hip venues and clubs.</p><p>“Actually, Yennefer and I were around here a few weeks ago for a gig,” Jaskier said. “You remember our friend Valdo and his lads, right?”</p><p>“Guy with the beard that mumbles,” Geralt said back quietly. </p><p>Jaskier caught his eye and the smile in it. “He mumbles, or his beard does?”</p><p>“Both,” Geralt said, “from what I could tell.”</p><p>Jaskier grinned, cruising along. Geralt had met his friends just after the new year, at a house party at Jaskier’s, which entailed mostly of drinking, eating, and jamming late into the night. Geralt seemed to try his best around his friends, talking to them in his direct, unflinching manner, and they liked him. </p><p>Yennefer was there, thankfully dressed like a civilian, and Geralt after some prompting revealed a picture of Cirilla for her to coo fondly over. It was a plot designed for Jaskier to uncover, to his great jaw-dropping delight by calling the man while she had Geralt’s phone, what name he was saved under.</p><p>Three months after, Jaskier still hadn’t decided whether Buttercup, or the picture of himself with Cirilla, melted his heart the most. Jaskier kissed Geralt on the cheek anytime he was faced with the impossible choice.</p><p>The restaurant was busy though they were seated within minutes, in full view of a large television screen diffusing the news. Geralt helped him out of his coat and Jaskier reflected on how much he loved the sweet little gestures. The coat, holding every possible door for him, putting Jaskier first when they were out. All things he’d performed while courting, without quite understanding the appeal of being on the receiving end, until he met Geralt.</p><p>Tonight was Jaskier’s treat, he’d insisted, and Geralt hadn’t seemed to mind. They opted to grill their own meat for the experience and because of the “how hard could it be?” Geralt had casually offered in response to the suggestion.</p><p>“You don’t know how much I love that you can cook,” Jaskier told him, enraptured. “I assume it came with parenthood?”</p><p>“Basically,” Geralt answered, his focus on the grill. “Ciri isn’t picky. I just try to make sure she eats healthy and forms good habits.”</p><p>“She is the right age to set the tone into adulthood,” Jaskier agreed. “I imagine even before this, she was quite a good kid. Some of these students I see sometimes really are nightmares. Fighting, bringing weapons to school, I mean, it’s unsettling.”</p><p>“Ciri needs to be careful,” Geralt said, serving the first round, and Jaskier eagerly dug in. “That school was chosen for her based on where we live.”</p><p>“There are definitely better institutions,” Jaskier agreed, “but I’m sure she’ll be alright. Her grades have been up haven’t they? Since we met?”</p><p>“She’s been putting in the work,” Geralt said with a nod. “I’m proud of her.”</p><p>“Mmm, and I’m proud of you, sir,” Jaskier moaned softly, his taste buds delighted, “this is absolutely delicious.”</p><p>The news program overhead had been silent when they entered but Jaskier noticed the volume was now turned up enough to be slightly annoying. He glanced at the headline and huffed, unsurprised to see another mutant report. </p><p>Geralt complimented the food and Jaskier smiled at him, feeding him a piece from his own plate and chopsticks. He caught the general trail of the news reporting as it announced the brutal murders of over a dozen people in Cambridge, allegedly at the hands of mutants under Magneto’s command. <i>Frozen and Mutilated</i>, read the gory headline.</p><p>“What a tragedy.” Jaskier turned his attention away from the news to focus on his food before he lost appetite. “I think I might get rid of my cable providers altogether. It’s always the same bloody nonsense about mutants. You’re lucky, you know,” he told Geralt. “You must have some peace and quiet not owning a television. The news is so accessible on mobile anyway, though I don’t think there’s any escaping these people.”</p><p>Geralt’s head lifted and he set his attention on the news reporting.</p><p>“I just wonder how many more people have to die before this all stops,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“It’s not right,” Geralt agreed quietly, returning to his grilling. The second batch was just about ready and he turned the heat down.</p><p>“It’s disgusting.” Jaskier reached for his beer. “They had no right to kill those poor people, and in my opinion, they’re only serving to prove the government right about them. Some of these mutants are just a bloody plague, aren’t they?”</p><p>Jaskier served himself seconds of the delicious food, and a rigidness caught his attention. He looked up to find Geralt’s eyes fixed on him, the expression on his face smooth in its unreadability.</p><p>“You think mutants are a plague,” Geralt said monotonously.</p><p>“I think,” Jaskier gestured with chopsticks, “the government is over policing them and the laws are a bit mental. But I also think some mutants need it. Don’t you?”</p><p>“Some of them,” Geralt said, so quietly Jaskier had to strain to hear him, “have their reasons.”</p><p>“And that gives them the right to be murderers?”</p><p>“No,” Geralt emphasized, his frown showing on his mouth, “no one has that right. Not the hateful humans killing mutants, nor the mutants exacting the revenge they believe is theirs. Doesn’t make either any less prevalent.”</p><p>“Geralt, that,” Jaskier pointed at the television screen, “is revolting. Those people should be behind bars, or whatever horror house can contain the enhanced animals.” </p><p>Geralt, for the first time, flinched and stared directly at the food before him. Jaskier was so puzzled he found his own gaze scouring the restaurant for the offending cause, wondering if uniforms had marched in without his notice. </p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt breathed, “you realize you’re applying the logic of humans, who create the laws, don’t you?”</p><p>Jaskier frowned at him. “Yes and you’re not, and I don’t understand why. Are you alright?” he felt the need to ask.</p><p>“Fine,” Geralt said through his teeth, looking far from it.</p><p>At a loss, Jaskier said, “Well, do you agree with these people? You think their acts of terror are justified?”</p><p>“No. But they didn’t start it. Humans did, Jaskier, out of fear.”</p><p>“Well,” Jaskier yielded, returning to his food, “somebody finish it then, and quickly. At this rate I don’t care if the anomalies run the show. It’s a bloody circus anyhow, and some order would be nice. Are you going to eat that?” He reached for a piece on Geralt’s plate and savored. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Geralt hadn’t spoken or moved, staring fixedly at the same spot. Slowly, his hands spread, and he looked up to Jaskier with a twitch at the corner of his mouth, as though he tried and failed to smile.</p><p>“Nothing,” Geralt said. “You’re right. Mutants are animals.”</p><p>“Now you’re just putting words in my mouth,” Jaskier jested, trying to lighten the mood. “Come now, eat up, and let’s talk about something less polarizing, please. Oh! I nearly forgot. You said over the phone you had something to tell me, didn’t you?”</p><p>Geralt shook his head very gently. “Nevermind. Wasn’t important.”</p><p>“What?” Jaskier cried in disappointment. “I thought you said it was, you wouldn’t tell me over the phone, remember?”</p><p>“I need the men’s room.” Geralt wiped his mouth and rose. “Excuse me. Be right back.”</p><p>“Oh, okay.” Jaskier gave him a sympathetic smile, praying an unexpected upset stomach was the culprit. “I’ll be here. Can’t promise the same of your food, though.” </p><p>If his jest was heard, it was not acknowledged. Geralt came back after a while, still moving stiffly. He looked pale and not in the least interested in food.</p><p>“Are you alright, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, reaching for his hand in concern. </p><p>“No,” Geralt said. “I’m not.”</p><p>“Is the food not sitting well?” It had tasted thoroughly cooked to him and he felt fine. Geralt looked at him and Jaskier found an odd strain to his eyes. “Are your contacts bothering you, my love? I’ve got you a spare eye solution bottle in the glove compartment.”</p><p>Geralt took his hand back and returned it to his lap. “My head,” he said with a frown, “is bothering me. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can eat.”</p><p>Jaskier sighed, hurting for him. “I understand,” he said, immediately flagging down the waiter. “Let’s get you back to mine. I’ll run you a bath, and I’ve got painkillers. Yes, hello,” he added to the waiter, “absolutely delicious, we’ll take the check and the rest of this to go, please.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>Thankfully it took little time to get everything sorted. They got their jackets on and had nearly made it to the car when Geralt halted.</p><p>“What’s the matter?” Jaskier asked when he noticed.</p><p>Geralt’s jaw shifted. “I need to go home to Ciri.”</p><p>Jaskier drifted closer to face him. “Alright… Would you prefer we spend the night at yours, then? I don’t mind either way, so long as you’re okay.”</p><p>“No. I want to be alone tonight.”</p><p>Jaskier felt the painful drop of his heart. “What’s the matter, my love? You’re acting very… odd.”</p><p>“I need to go home,” Geralt repeated.</p><p>“Yes, alright.” Jaskier ground his teeth. He was on thin ice with his options and focused on full compliance. “Why don’t we get in the car, where it’s warm, and I’ll drop you home--”</p><p>“I’ll make my own way.”</p><p>“You--what? Darling, we’re in Brighton. It’s going to take you over an hour to get home.”</p><p>“I need to be alone right now, Jaskier. I’m sorry.”</p><p>The air went out of Jaskier, as if he’d been dealt a blow. It hurt, because Geralt didn’t look apologetic, rather troubled, almost sad, a hardness fighting for dominance in his dark eyes. Jaskier didn’t want to fight, perhaps because in Geralt’s unwillingness to engage, he saw imminent defeat.</p><p>“I understand. Then, just--” Jaskier shoved the bag of food in Geralt’s hands, “take this with you, you barely ate. And tell me when you get home. And feel better. I love you, Geralt.” </p><p>He went in to claim a kiss, their hundredth thousandth, ignoring the pained tug in his chest when it was hardly returned. It did not stop Jaskier from holding Geralt tightly, in the spare moments he was allowed.</p><p>“I love you, too.” Geralt sounded and looked like it hurt him to say it, and Jaskier wished that wasn’t the case. Geralt walked in the opposite direction, leaving Jaskier to stare at his retreating back, a deep unease settling over him.</p><p>He followed the I-90 East highway to the South End and was home in ten minutes. Another ten would have seen Geralt back to his place, but Jaskier let it be. At some point that evening Geralt had been affected by something Jaskier said. Their conversation replayed in his mind in a vicious cycle, as he tried to pinpoint precisely when Geralt stiffened, and just what he could have said.</p><p>Since meeting, they’d argued on very many topics. Geralt wasn’t confrontational, always opting for logic and rationality, and they could usually agree to disagree or learn from each other. It was always amicable in the end.</p><p>Mutants was a new subject. In fact, Jaskier had believed Geralt to be entirely disinterested in them, and politics in general. It was the reason Geralt’s views were so unexpected, though clearly something had rubbed him the wrong way.</p><p>Jaskier thought they agreed the crimes were deserving of justice. Now he wondered whether Geralt had agreed in the end for the sake of not arguing, after accusing him of using ‘human logic’. As if Jaskier, somehow, was prejudiced. He would admit he wasn’t entirely up to date on the history of mutants in any part of the world, but Jaskier was on their side. The good ones, at least.</p><p>He let two hours elapse before checking his phone. Geralt should have been home by now, even if he took a long winded way back. But there was nothing new. Jaskier tried to keep busy in the studio, organizing tracks and mixes, recording some ideas he’d been putting off because he thought they were shit. His phone was near him, in case Geralt called or texted. Radio silence.</p><p>When he couldn’t take it anymore, Jaskier sent him a message asking after him, saying he didn’t want to be a bother by calling. He sent another shortly after, saying he was becoming aware that something he’d said that evening might have upset Geralt, and he wanted to talk about it whenever Geralt was ready, to make things right. Jaskier kept his phone in bed with him that evening, sleeping fitfully. In the morning, there was no response from Geralt.</p><p>This was normally not surprising, as the man never responded to text messages, but considering the circumstances, Jaskier had to do something. The only reason he hadn’t phoned the previous night was to respect Geralt’s wishes, despite the torment it caused him.</p><p>The call didn’t ring when he dialed, going straight to the automated voicemail. “Geralt, it’s me,” Jaskier said, realizing the time. “I am sorry to call this early, I just… I’m a bit worried about you. And I was hoping we could talk. Anyway, call me back if you can, when you get this. I love you, alright? Kiss Cirilla for me.”</p><p>He tried to distract himself with breakfast, with lesson planning, with music, anything to keep him from checking his phone every five minutes to nothing. Geralt could be having a lie-in, he told himself, though the more worried part of him imagined him unwell, or ignoring Jaskier on purpose.</p><p>Finding no motivation to do anything, save for talking himself out of sending another text, or making another call, Jaskier returned to bed. He drifted uneasily into a nap, the dreams ensuing unpleasant. He jerked awake at the sound of his phone ringing and answered without checking the caller.</p><p>“Hello? Geralt?” </p><p>“Hi, is this Jaskier?” The male voice was unfamiliar.</p><p>“Yes, who is this?”</p><p>“My name is Officer Istredd, I’m with the BPD--”</p><p>“You’re Yen’s partner. Why are you calling me?” Jaskier frowned. “Is she alright?”</p><p>“She’s been injured in the line of duty. I think it’s best if you come to Mass General. She’s in urgent care.”</p><p>Jaskier’s heart sank, his body snapping violently awake. </p><p>“I’m coming,” he said, and hung up. </p><p>He couldn’t do this, not now, not Yen. Injured. Urgent care. He dressed hastily and grabbed his keys and bolted from the apartment. Jaskier shakily dialed Geralt from the car and received an answer after a few rings.</p><p>“Hi,” Geralt said quietly, and it was enough to lump everything Jaskier had been withholding at the base of his throat.</p><p>“Geralt?” he said, voice breaking.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“It’s Yennefer. She’s at the hospital. I’m going there now, I don’t know what’s happened, she-she’s been injured, I--”</p><p>“Which hospital?”</p><p>Jaskier narrowly cleared a yellow light and tried to maintain his focus. “MGH. I’m worried, Geralt,” he admitted, “her partner didn’t say what happened, and I’m afraid it’s really bad.”</p><p>There was a shuffle on the other line yet no more of a reply.</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier quickly said, “I am sorry about yesterday. I said something I shouldn’t have, that came across the wrong way, I don’t know, but I am sorry. Please don’t be angry with me, Geralt, it’s my fault, I know it is. I feel terrible, so just tell me what you would like me to do and I will do it. I’ll do anything to make this right.”</p><p>“Hang up, Jaskier,” Geralt said sharply. “And drive safe. I’m coming.” There was a pause and then he added, “I love you.”</p><p>“I love you too, Geralt,” Jaskier said brokenly.</p><p>Geralt hung up before Jaskier could make another reply.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belong</a>
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        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please review updated tags for trigger warnings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>GERALT</b>
</p><p>“Hi, I’m here to visit a patient admitted today, maybe last night.” Geralt stood before a counter as a receptionist belatedly acknowledged him. </p><p>“What’s the last name?”</p><p>“Vengerberg. With the police.”</p><p>“Are you family?”</p><p>“No,” Geralt said. “She’s a friend.”</p><p>He was told where to sign and given further details on where to go and wait, information Geralt could have easily acquired from Jaskier, if only he’d picked up his phone and called him again. But deciding to drop everything, warn Ciri, and take a bus and two trains to Mass General Hospital by the Charles River was all that he could manage.</p><p>There was no telling how Jaskier’s unfiltered opinions about mutants sat with him, no room for the tension in his chest that grew like a tumor. After months of working up the nerve to try telling Jaskier what he was, those words thrown in his face cut him to pieces. </p><p>Plague. Anomalies. <i>Animals</i>. </p><p>Jaskier couldn’t possibly know the impact of his words, but they hurt no less. Geralt did his best to push the thought from his mind once he reached the waiting area in the ward indicated to him. </p><p>He found Jaskier sitting with his head in his hands, looking haphazardly thrown together and yet, painfully, still perfect. There were a couple of policemen around who tensed at Geralt’s approach, their eyes locking suspiciously on him until Jaskier became aware of his approach.</p><p>“Oh, thank God.” Jaskier rose, advanced swiftly, and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s shoulders. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”</p><p>“How is she?” Geralt asked, withdrawing to look the teacher over. Jaskier’s eyes were red, swollen from crying, and he looked tired. In spite of everything, the sight pained Geralt.</p><p>“We don’t know yet,” Jaskier sniffled. “She’s in surgery now. It’s, uh, a pelvic injury, I think.”</p><p>Geralt cast his gaze toward the policemen, who had relaxed, but only just. Jaskier made the introduction and Geralt shook their hands without much more than a monosyllabic greeting.</p><p>“What happened?” Geralt asked Jaskier, who held his hand.</p><p>“Could have been friendly fire,” Jaskier said, looking to one officer for confirmation, “but the officers aren’t sure.”</p><p>“Asshole shouldn’t have resisted arrest,” said the cop. He set his teeth in a snarl and added, “Bullets bounced right off the fucking mutant freak.”</p><p>Geralt grew rigid where he stood, the hand in Jaskier’s tightening as he leveled the officer with the emptiest stare he could muster. </p><p>“I assume,” he began, flatly, “you were successful.”</p><p>“You mean did we get him?” the officer scoffed contemptuously at Geralt. “Damn right we did. He’s going away for a long time after what he’s done to our Yenna.”</p><p>“I sure hope so,” Jaskier said, his sigh deep.</p><p>It felt as though Geralt was in his body and yet outside of it. He lowered his gaze with a slight nod, recognizing the cold tension along his spine for what it was: fear.</p><p>“I hope she pulls through,” Geralt said, and the words sounded hollow to his own ear. </p><p>Jaskier led him over to sit and sagged against him. Geralt kept his eyes ahead, his back remaining stiff and his posture remarkably tense. There was no immediate threat yet instinct screamed for his removal from the situation. </p><p>But Geralt had packed his bag with his security uniform for later on, and told Ciri where he was going, where dinner and her lunch for the next day was.</p><p>“Thank you, Geralt,” Jaskier murmured, “for turning up. I know you didn’t have to.”</p><p>“She’s your friend. You were upset.” </p><p>“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Jaskier leaned into him, resting his head on Geralt’s shoulder. “I am terrified of what the doctor will say and I’d rather not handle bad news alone.”</p><p>Geralt tuned Jaskier out and audibly searched for the surgery room where Yennefer could be. There were so many voices, when he let his ears pick up everything, it was like wading through a sea of sounds and trying to focus on a grain of sand. </p><p>He found her heartbeat after some time, and tried to decipher the words of the surgeons operating her. Geralt frowned when it didn’t sound too good. She would live, but there would be complications.</p><p>“She’s going to pull through,” Geralt told Jaskier. “Try not to worry too much.”</p><p>“Thank you for saying that.” Jaskier held on, kissed him on the jaw. “I am so sorry about yesterday. Please can we talk about it? I want to make things right again. I can’t bear the thought of you being cross with me.”</p><p>“Later,” Geralt said with a glance, and he found blue eyes he couldn’t keep desperate for his attention. “We’re here for your friend.” When Jaskier didn’t seem convinced, Geralt said, “Now isn’t the best time. You got a lot on your plate.”</p><p>They left the matter there. Half an hour later, Geralt rose to procure Jaskier a cup of coffee, then a snack, doing what he thought he was supposed to do, so as not to come across as out of the ordinary, or suspicious. Scared, distrustful, almost considering missing work to go back home to Ciri and keep her safe.</p><p>A doctor came in the evening to confirm what Geralt overhead. Yennefer was alive and stable, but there had been complications with the injury. Jaskier and the officer called Istredd were pulled away. Geralt heard the doctor coach them on how to support Yennefer, when the news was broken to her that she would no longer be able to bear children.</p><p>Jaskier came for another hug, though he shed no more tears. Geralt held him with a dull expression and gave him the space to go see his friend. When Jaskier returned, Geralt informed the teacher he had work to head to.</p><p>“Of course. Let me drop you off,” Jaskier said, grabbing his coat.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Geralt replied. “I could use the commute time to have a bite.”</p><p>“You can eat in the car, come on.”</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed, not moving. He didn’t want to make this difficult but he couldn’t do this, not right now. “Yennefer needs you. And you need some rest. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“You don’t want to be alone with me,” Jaskier said, with a hurt look.</p><p>“That’s not it,” Geralt lied, shaking his head. “I think you should stay here.”</p><p>“Fine.” Jaskier gestured, “I’ll walk you out, then. I hope it’s not too much to ask.”</p><p>Geralt made no reply, seeing as it was the best compromise. They walked in silence all the way to the Charles/MGH train station. He turned to say something polite to Jaskier when the music teacher slammed into him, arms around Geralt and face in the crook of his neck.</p><p>After much hesitation, Geralt held him back.</p><p>“I love you so much, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. “Please know I always will, no matter what.”</p><p>Geralt wanted to believe him, but in the moment, he couldn’t, waiting only for Jaskier to pull away. </p><p>“Can I ask you something?” Geralt raised, once they separated. </p><p>“Anything, please.”</p><p>“The mutant arrested in Yennefer’s case,” he said carefully, “do you really think he deserves to be put away?”</p><p>“He hurt my friend, Geralt.”</p><p>“Some people,” Geralt said, with a deep, patient breath, “walking this earth have fortified skin. Lab created, but not always. It’s… a defense mechanism. Does any part of you think he might have been protecting himself? He might be innocent? I mean, you said yourself it could have been friendly fire.”</p><p>Jaskier stared dubiously back at Geralt. “I don’t know the facts,” he said, “I just know that my friend will never bear children. She wanted to be a mother.”</p><p>“Bearing a child,” Geralt said, “makes one a mother as much as it makes me Ciri’s real dad.”</p><p>“That’s not for you to judge,” Jaskier snapped. “My friend is in hospital, she nearly died, and you want to debate what makes a parent? Whether some mutant resisting arrest might be innocent?”</p><p>“You don’t know the facts.”</p><p>“No,” Jaskier scowled. “I don’t. And I didn’t realize you were on their side, either. Is that why you got so off-kilter yesterday?”</p><p>Geralt looked away, and felt a headache come on. He couldn’t tell if the roaring in his ears was blood, or the amplified sound of the Red Line train pulling into the station. </p><p>He should have gone on, instead of broaching this topic now, and facing the reality that Jaskier could very well be his worst nightmare. Just as he’d told Roach, a human never meant for a mutant like Geralt. </p><p>“Whose side are you on, Jaskier?” Geralt mumbled.</p><p>“That of justice,” Jaskier replied. “It’s that simple.”</p><p>“Except, it isn’t.” Geralt shook his head. “Not when one side dictates the laws and the other endeavors only to survive them. The truth is,” he sighed sadly, gazing at the man he’d deigned to love, “the facts won’t matter. Yennefer is a Boston Police officer. And that mutant just signed his death sentence. That’s the justice whose side you’re on.”</p><p>Jaskier looked too worn for this conversation. Geralt felt guilty to have broached it, but he couldn’t help himself. He stepped away but Jaskier held on to him, came in for a kiss, one Geralt didn’t feel like the others.</p><p>“Alright, well, have a good shift at work,” Jaskier said gently. “I’d say call me in the morning when you’re off, but I’m not sure you will. So just… pick up when I call you. Please.”</p><p>“Okay.” Geralt disentangled and walked away, only to hear his name.</p><p>“You never said,” Jaskier called, “which side you’re on.”</p><p>Geralt forced a smile, for he was never given a choice.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, and retreated into the station. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Work was uneventful. Overnight security at the Blaviken Apartments tended to go without a hitch. In the morning, Ciri texted him to let him know she was off to school. There was a problem with her computer and she wondered if Geralt could check it out for her. He promised he would when he got in, and changed out of his uniform at the end of work to head home. </p><p>Jaskier called while Geralt was on the train. He could hear the music teacher perfectly fine, but Geralt wasn’t in the mood for talking.</p><p>“I’ve taken the day off, so I can go back to the hospital and see Yen,” Jaskier said. “She didn’t wake up last night and I would like to be there when she does.”</p><p>“Give her my best,” Geralt said, adding when Jaskier began another remark, “you’re breaking up. Let’s talk later.”</p><p>“Right, no bother at all. Call when you have better signal, then?”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>He didn’t, went home, and fell into bed, endeavoring to sift the thoughts which had tormented him in the last few hours. </p><p>Geralt was familiar with the invisible divide between mutants and humans. For decades he’d experienced the sting of its injustice, witnessing as it slowly eroded his confidence, doing all he could to keep Ciri from ending up like him. But never before had Geralt allowed himself to foolishly pretend for so long, as if revealing his true nature would never rear its ugly head and roar in his face.</p><p>It was clearer now, more than ever, that he had two choices: tell Jaskier he was a mutant, and likely break things off, or break things off without explanation. </p><p>Ciri’s computer hadn’t been updated in a while. Geralt clicked around, deleted some hefty apps, and cleaned out her drives. It was back to optimal speed by the time he made ready to head to work. </p><p>He found a voicemail from Jaskier saying Yennefer had awoken and was doing alright, albeit devastated by the complications of her injury. She would be on bed rest for some time. Geralt felt sorry for her, but not enough to call Jaskier back.</p><p>In the afternoon, when Ciri called him before his shift, asking if he’d taken a look at her computer, Geralt couldn’t get a straight answer from her about whether or not she was coming by the store for dinner. She had tutoring but there was something else she wasn’t saying.</p><p>“I have to clock in, Cirilla,” Geralt told her, “text me what you decide.”</p><p>“Alright, love you,” she said hastily.</p><p>Geralt softened. “Love you too, kiddo.”</p><p>He spent the next few hours nearly drowning in a wave of customers, as a busy day unfolded. Geralt emerged from the counter around six thirty to take his break. He’d forgotten all about checking his phone for Ciri’s decision. Her voice sounded nearby, but she was whispering to someone else.</p><p>“Alright, here he comes. Just, be cool,” she said, “I know he looks scary but he’s nice, I promise.”</p><p>“Are you sure? He’s built like a tank. Does he always look this mad?”</p><p>Geralt stared at the two awkward teenagers waiting around for him.</p><p>“Yes, I’m sure, and that’s his normal face,” Ciri hissed, and then smiled at him. “Geralt! Over here!” She came up to meet him halfway and gave him an unexpected hug. “Hi!”</p><p>“Hi?” Geralt looked from her to the accompanying long-haired boy. “Thought you were going home.”</p><p>“I changed my mind. I texted you, didn’t you see it?”</p><p>“No.” Geralt put his arm around her, and cast the boy a tame glower. “Who’s this?”</p><p>“Hey Mr. Rivia!” said the boy.</p><p>“Geralt,” Ciri said, “this is my friend, Adon.” She gave a swift beckon of her head and the boy approached quickly, nervously. “Adon this is my dad, Geralt.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you, sir.” The boy outstretched a hand. Geralt made it disappear into his own.</p><p>“Hmm.” He scrutinized Adon in silence. “I’ve seen you before.”</p><p>“Y-You have?” Adon glanced at Ciri.</p><p>“Blue Hills,” Geralt remembered. He had called her Cereal. “Oh,” Geralt grunted, turning his attention to Ciri. “This is the <i>boy</i>.”</p><p>“Yes, Geralt,” Ciri replied through her teeth, eyes a little wide with self-control, “so can you be nice, please?”</p><p>Geralt offered another grunt and started walking toward Prepared Foods. Behind him, the kids continued to conspire.</p><p>“I don’t think he likes me,” Adon whispered to Ciri.</p><p>“A grunt means he’ll tolerate you,” Ciri whispered back, “don’t worry, you’re doing great.”</p><p>“You guys hungry?” Geralt called over his shoulder.</p><p>“See?” Ciri whispered. “Yeah, Geralt, we are!”</p><p>They sat and Geralt got down to business. Ciri talked too loudly, and Adon laughed when he wasn’t supposed to. Geralt could smell the coil of nerves the poor boy was, which was just as well. </p><p>“So, you’re repeating a grade,” Geralt stated. “Why?”</p><p>“I failed a class last year,” Adon said, “but I’m passing this year so I’ll definitely be a sophomore next year with Ciri.”</p><p>Geralt stared between the two teens. The boy, in spite of being older than Ciri, seemed harmless.</p><p>“Geralt, Adon plays music,” Ciri chimed quickly. “He has Band with Jask-- Mr. Pankratz.”</p><p>Adon seemed to have missed Ciri’s slip, but Geralt caught it. “No shit,” he replied, feeling his expression slacken as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. </p><p>Ciri loved Jaskier, he knew this for certain ever since their Valentine's outing, and Geralt had no reference on how to break his predicament to her. He wouldn’t, until he handled the situation. Keeping the kid in the dark for now would spare her feelings. Geralt was not so heartless as to butcher them, when his own were in such turbulent disarray.</p><p>“I play the guitar,” Adon said, mistaking Geralt’s silence for interest.</p><p>“You any good?”</p><p>“He’s amazing,” Ciri fawned. “We actually met in the music room at lunch, he played a really cool song.”</p><p>The teens shared a smile, tinted at the same time, and Geralt saw it. Pure, unbridled affection, something he knew well. He was just beginning to feel some semblance of gladness for his daughter, when reality struck. This boy likely didn’t know about Ciri’s mutation. </p><p>A part of Geralt cracked grievously at what it could mean down the line, though he prayed he would be proven wrong. He could handle being robbed of his morsels of happiness if, in exchange, his Ciri was afforded heaps of it.</p><p>“No, Ciri, you’re amazing, trust me,” Adon said.</p><p>“Got that right,” Geralt supplied. “Where do you live, son?”</p><p>“East Boston, sir,” Adon said, “I’ll walk Ciri to the train after this, though.”</p><p>“Good.” Geralt liked that. “You do that.” </p><p>The kid passed whatever test this was meant to be, for now. Geralt forced a smile, certain it must have come out like a grimace.</p><p>“Alright, well, I’m due back at the counter. Sweetie,” Geralt set his attention on Ciri when he rose, gave her a consenting nod, and hugged her tightly. “Text me when you’re home.”</p><p>“I will.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Over the next week, anytime he felt bad over not answering Jaskier’s calls, or barely managing to call him back for a few seconds, Geralt remembered the music teacher’s scathing words. As much as he did not want them to affect him, they disappointed him in more ways than he was ready to face. </p><p>It hurt to hear them from someone he thought, after all this time, he could finally love. But then, he knew his distance was in some way causing the same harm, and Geralt didn’t like the thought of it.</p><p>One Tuesday evening, during his break, he scrolled through the red slew of missed calls, from the same ID, and finally called Jaskier back. They’d last seen each other at the hospital. Geralt looked up when the chime of a ringing phone sounded nearby. </p><p>There Jaskier stood, mobile in hand and uncertainty in his blue eyes, which locked with Geralt’s. He lowered the phone to hang up as Jaskier approached.</p><p>“I was starting to worry you weren’t turning up for work, either,” Jaskier said.</p><p>Geralt tried not to frown at him when he rose. “Hi,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just…”</p><p>“Needed some time?”</p><p>“I… Yes.”</p><p>“You could have told me that.”</p><p>“I know.” Geralt stood uncomfortably, and gestured over to his table. “Let me get your coat.”</p><p>“It’s alright, I’m not staying long.”</p><p>Geralt stared at him and saw confusion, beneath the icy mask of hurt. He sighed and went to sit, grateful Jaskier followed suit. They’d never rowed quite like this, though he supposed there was a first time for everything. </p><p>“Why are you dodging my calls?” Jaskier asked him outright.</p><p>“I needed some time to think,” Geralt said.</p><p>“Alright,” Jaskier conceded, “think about what? Have I done something to upset you?”</p><p>“No. Nothing like that.”</p><p>“Something I said, then.” Jaskier, too, seemed to have done some thinking, between working, going to visit Yennefer, and helping her, as all his voicemails had said. “You haven’t been right since Brighton. We talked about mutants. The day after, Yennefer was injured. By a mutant.”</p><p>“You don’t know the details.”</p><p>“Let’s not go back there.” Jaskier ground his teeth. “Stick to the topic at hand, Geralt. Obviously there is something to do with mutants we don’t see eye to eye on. What is it?”</p><p>Geralt felt uncomfortable and nervous. He had no idea where to begin. Irritation surged in him, catching him by surprise, at the visible, clueless agitation of his boyfriend.</p><p>“They’ve been around a long time, Jaskier.”</p><p>“Very well,” Jaskier said, “and I think the law does not favor them.”</p><p>“Oh, now you think that?” Geralt scoffed.</p><p>“I’ve always thought that.”</p><p>“Anomalies,” Geralt hissed. “A plague. Animals. Your words, Jaskier.”</p><p>“I was talking about killers,” Jaskier emphasized stiffly.</p><p>“Doesn’t make it any less r—”</p><p>The word caught on Geralt’s tongue. People tended to stop listening once it came out, threw up their defenses, and reacted for the worse. He drew a steadying breath.</p><p>“Are you quite serious?” Jaskier blazed. “Yes, I said those things but I wasn’t trying to be hateful. I was horrified, by the news, by those murders. A point which you seem to be missing entirely.”</p><p>“What point is that?”</p><p>“Killers,” Jaskier said fiercely, “of any genetic makeup, deserve to be brought to justice. If that makes me a racist, so be it, but humans are not exempt in my book. Is that what this is about, Geralt? I don’t hate all mutants, if that’s what you think.”</p><p>“You think you can just pick and choose?”</p><p>“Yes, and I choose the good ones. What’s the matter with you?”</p><p>“The world is not made up of good mutants and bad mutants,” Geralt growled. “It’s more complicated, more grey than that. Some are just trying to live a normal life. Others are trying to survive.”</p><p>“Alright.” Jaskier leaned back. “Since you’re so versed then, tell me how I should approach it, because frankly, I don’t see why this is so big of a deal, my boyfriend has dodged all of my bloody calls over the last week and half!”</p><p>Never, since the day they met, had Geralt heard Jaskier raise his voice in agitation. The alien sound surprised him and made him realize it was being ignored, not being called out on slurs, that upset Jaskier the most. They weren’t even having the same argument. Geralt nearly screamed, but a rational part of him opted to try and douse the flames. To get on the same page.</p><p>“I’m sorry about that,” Geralt sighed. “Look, I don’t blame you for wanting some of those people behind bars. Maybe some of them deserve it, maybe some don’t. </p><p>“The problem is, many humans out there think all mutants belong in high security prisons. In labs, the same labs people are experimented on and given… abilities. Things they never asked for and have to live with. That’s injustice, Jaskier.</p><p>“There is a lot I don’t agree with. But, before you go condemning some mutants for fighting back, take how they may have suffered into consideration. Families torn apart, murdered for carrying the mutant gene. Children kidnapped to be enhanced, genetically, physically, to serve some greedy purpose. All of this, done over centuries.</p><p>“This system trying to control mutants has been in place a long time, Jaskier, and it’s killing them. I don’t agree with it, and it must be fixed, that’s all I’m saying. You can approach it how you want, but it’s important to see the full picture. That means seeing the mutants’ side in all this.”</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, after a long, silent moment. A kind of recognition entered his blue eyes, as new knowledge seemed to dawn on him. </p><p>Geralt felt his insides churn with turmoil when he realized his impassioned response  might have inadvertently revealed his nature.</p><p>“You’ve known them, haven’t you? Mutants.” When Geralt stared back in stunned, relieved silence, Jaskier added, “That’s what this is about. That’s why it’s so personal, isn’t it?”</p><p>Geralt spread his hands on the table, faced with the moment he dreaded the most. </p><p>Courage surged in him, and he said, “My brothers… they were…” Like him. “They were mutants.” Jaskier’s hand promptly found his own and the spell broke. Geralt despised his own cowardice. “That’s partly why it’s personal, yes.”</p><p>Jaskier sighed deeply, seeing the matter as clearly as Geralt wanted. He knew then his hesitation to tell the whole truth would come back to haunt him.</p><p>“I didn’t know, Geralt,” Jaskier spoke softly, remorsefully. “The things I’ve said… God, they were horrible.”</p><p>“You didn’t know,” Geralt agreed. “And I can’t hold that against you.”</p><p>“Yes, you can. And you did, though I don’t blame you. Geralt, you know far more than I do,” Jaskier pressed. “And I can tell you’ve seen more than I do. I just… Fuck. I wish I knew it was <i>this</i> personal to you.”</p><p>“Would you have said anything different?” Geralt asked.</p><p>“I would have put my mind in gear before driving my mouth.” Jaskier frowned. “I can understand if you will hold my opinions over this against me, but I was not generalising, Geralt. What I said was directed toward the murderers and only them, though that does not make it acceptable. </p><p>“I have biases, I see that now, and I am sorely in need of education, but how am I to learn and grow without having these conversations? Please believe me when I tell you I have no deep-seated hatred against mutants. Absolutely not, never.”</p><p>Geralt didn’t say anything in reply. Slowly, a strange calm settled over him. They were glacially emerging on the other side of things, a pale sun cresting over their horizon. </p><p>If Jaskier could accept his brothers having been mutants, perhaps he could accept Geralt being an unregistered one, though he might be upset at not having been told sooner. Geralt prayed they could overcome that, too, when the time for it came, because he wanted nothing more than to give in to how much he had progressively fallen in love with Jaskier. He gripped Jaskier’s hand more tightly, but then noticed the time.</p><p>“Shit. I have to get back,” Geralt said. He hadn’t eaten, but he found he didn’t mind. “If you’re willing to have these kinds of conversations, Jaskier, I need you to know there is more I want to share with you.”</p><p>Jaskier sighed deeply, seeming greatly relieved. “I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner,” he said. “You honestly terrified me there for a while when I didn’t hear from you. I won’t keep you.” They rose. “But I would like to see you this weekend, and process all this further, do you understand?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And I want to hear all about your brothers. You never even told me their names. Why is that?”</p><p>“Mutants aren’t exactly people’s favorite topic,” Geralt admitted. “It’s Eskel, and Lambert. Their names.”</p><p>“Then, I can’t wait to learn more about them.” Jaskier wrapped his arms tightly around Geralt. “The next time you need space to think, please tell me. I can’t remember the last time I slept, I was so worried you hated me.”</p><p>Geralt seized Jaskier’s face in his palms and kissed him on the mouth lingeringly. “I love you. I want this to work.”</p><p>“And I am redeemed only by the love you bear for me. I’m glad we had this talk.”</p><p>“Me too.” Geralt gave him a final, parting peck. “Give my best to Yennefer. Call you in the morning,” he said. “Promise.”</p><p>The relieved smile on Jaskier’s face could have melted the snow outside.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Geralt should have known, when he awoke on Saturday to a spotless bathroom, that something was up. The carpets had been changed, the old ones already bagged to be washed. He went to Ciri’s room and found her bin was missing, her dirty laundry also already bagged and ready to go.</p><p>“Good morning,” she breezed, bundled up in a robe and rose pajamas. “Or afternoon, I guess. Want some lunch?”</p><p>Geralt leveled her in silence for a second, recognizing she wasn’t a little kid anymore. Not like before. “Is that coffee?” he asked, pointing at the pot.</p><p>“I just made you some,” Ciri declared. “I think I did it right. Wanna try?”</p><p>“Okay. What’s for lunch?”</p><p>“I made,” Ciri revealed, “chicken sandwiches with some leftovers from last night and I even added lettuce and tomato.”</p><p>Geralt took the mug of coffee handed to him and drank. Pretty good. Sandwiches smelled great.</p><p>“I think I’m going to run the vacuum in my room when we’re done here,” she said.</p><p>“Alright,” Geralt sighed, “what’s going on?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Ciri laughed. “Nothing is going on.”</p><p>“You made coffee. And lunch.” He settled at the table beside her, reaching for the warm sandwich. “Either you want something, or you’re an imposter, and my Ciri is in her room on the computer and I didn’t see her when I went for the laundry. Which you brought out, another weird thing.”</p><p>“Come on, Geralt, don’t you think I’d do all that stuff anyway,” she cried, “out of the goodness of my heart? Because I just love you so much and you’re the best?”</p><p>“Now you’re starting to freak me out.” Geralt bit into his sandwich. “Fuck. This is nice.”</p><p>“Thank you, I’m glad you like it.”</p><p>Geralt inhaled it in a few bites, grateful Ciri had made him a large one. He returned to his coffee and considered pouring another mug.</p><p>“So,” Ciri said, emphasizing the vowel, “there is kind of a little party tonight I was invited to…”</p><p>“There it is.” Geralt drank deeply from his cup and finished it. “I knew something was up.”</p><p>“No wait, before you say anything,” Ciri quickly said, “it’s going to be totally safe, Adon’s parents will be home, and honestly I don’t even think there’s going to be that many of us.”</p><p>“Ciri, you’re fourteen.” Geralt decided on that second cup of coffee. “I can’t just let you go out at night by yourself.”</p><p>“I knew you were going to say that, so I have a solution.”</p><p>He stared at her, intrigued. She was definitely no longer just a kid, though she would always be his little girl. Geralt had decided that a long time ago.</p><p>“Let’s hear it.”</p><p>“Well, you usually go out on Saturday nights with Jaskier,” Ciri said. “I already checked your phone, I know you two have plans this weekend--”</p><p>“You what?”</p><p>“Let me finish, so anyway, we could go together,” Ciri said, “part ways on whichever train stop, I’ll head to Eastie, and meet you back when the party is done. Unless,” she crinkled her nose, belatedly considering one factor, “you’re sleeping over at his house, in which case, don’t tell me, nevermind, I’ll take an Uber back or something.”</p><p>“You can’t take an Uber by yourself.”</p><p>“Geralt,” Ciri groaned. “Please, this is, like, my first highschool party.”</p><p>“I didn’t say no,” Geralt replied.</p><p>“Are you saying yes?”</p><p>Geralt smiled softly at her. “You’ll be careful, right?”</p><p>“I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do!”</p><p>“That’s not encouraging,” Geralt admitted. “Where in East Boston does he live?”</p><p>“Maverick.”</p><p>“I’m meeting Jaskier in the Seaport,” Geralt said, “I can take you up to Maverick and come get you anytime you like. He’ll probably have his car--”</p><p>Cirilla shot up and threw her arms around his neck. Geralt had to be careful not to spill coffee everywhere but her enthusiasm brought on his smile.</p><p>“Thank you!”</p><p>“Alright, alright,” he said.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Cirilla knew how to get to her friend’s place surprisingly well. Geralt, who didn’t want to dwell on how, told Jaskier of the way she tried to shoo him away on the doorstep, but he insisted on having a word with the parents to make sure they were actually there.</p><p>“Oh, she must have been mortified,” Jaskier said sympathetically, a radiant smile across his face. </p><p>“She rolled her eyes pretty far back in her head. The mom, Lilja, was nice,” Geralt told him. “Said she was sticking around, so I said bye to Ciri and left.”</p><p>“This can’t be easy for you. She’s growing up. Coming into her own.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Geralt drank his beer. They were just starting a meal at The Barking Crab, and Jaskier was already flushed, though it was hard to tell whether from wine or his good mood. “Feels like I’ve known her since she was a little girl. She’s growing up too fast.”</p><p>Jaskier made his trademark, fond noise. “You are so sweet. Whatever will I do with you, my White Wolf?”</p><p>“Marry me, apparently.”</p><p>“Oh, yes, I said that!” Jaskier laughed. “Well, somebody has to.”</p><p>“Who better?”</p><p>“I couldn’t agree more. We can move deeper into Roslindale Village, or Brookline, and adopt a curly haired baby and a golden retriever, like all the hip couples.”</p><p>Geralt smiled at that distinct, accurate visual. “Hmm. Go to the Farmers Market on Saturdays...”</p><p>“And then stop by the public library. Oh, the dream.” Jaskier, who was practically bouncing in his seat, brought his hands together. “I know we’re semi-joking, but… that would be nice, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>Their eyes met and Geralt could see it. A normal little life, even while Ciri was still in high school. He didn’t think anyone would look at him the same way Jaskier did in that moment, full of longing, tenderness, and acceptance. </p><p>“Yeah,” Geralt said. “It would. You wanted to hear about my brothers.”</p><p>“I did,” Jaskier replied, still looking softly on. “Tell me about them.”</p><p>So Geralt did, describing his own mutation bit by bit, explaining how his brothers came to be what they were. How they were human once, experimented upon by other humans to hunt, in a world that did not differentiate between mutants and monsters. It was in the way Jaskier listened and seemed nonplussed by the idea of golden eyes, and super-strength, and heightened senses, that Geralt decided finally, to admit what he’d withheld for months.</p><p>“You know,” he began nervously, “Eskel and Lambert’s mutation… It wasn’t just them.”</p><p>“Your father, too, I assume?” Jaskier inquired.</p><p>Geralt opened his mouth to answer, but his phone rang. He paused, frowned, and fetched it. </p><p>“Sorry,” he said, “it could be Ciri.” </p><p>“Please,” Jaskier encouraged.</p><p>It was in fact Cirilla. Geralt had told her to call if she needed anything. He answered immediately.</p><p>“Dad?” she choked out, her tone heavy with fear.</p><p>His surroundings fell away as worry seized his being. Geralt looked tensely at Jaskier, eyes wide and frown deeper than usual.</p><p>“What happened?” Geralt said sharply.</p><p>“You need to come, quickly.”</p><p>“<i>Where are you?</i>”</p><p>There was noise in her background, sirens, and Ciri sounded like she was crying.</p><p>“By the waterfront. With the police. Please hurry.”</p><p>“Don’t move.” Geralt hung up, grabbed his jacket and did not bother to get it on. “I have to go. Waterfront. Ciri is in trouble.”</p><p>“What—? Geralt, hang on! I’m coming with you—”</p><p>He didn’t wait for Jaskier to follow as he stormed out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
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        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please carefully review additional tags for trigger warnings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>CIRILLA</b>
</p><p>It was Cahir’s fault. Ciri knew, without a shadow of a doubt, because the stupid game had been his and Fringilla’s idea. </p><p>She stood trembling violently at the Waterfront. She’d left her jacket at Adon’s house when she ran out, covered in blood. His blood. </p><p>Her throat felt raw from screaming, her ears ringing with the sound of sirens, ambulances, and police cars near and far. There was so much commotion. Crashed cars, injured drivers, stretchers.</p><p>The police surrounded her, talking, yellow tape boxing her in with them. Ciri tried not to look at the blood on the pavement. Cahir’s blood. He’d tried following her, when she wanted to get away. It was her scream that made those cars crash into him.</p><p>The policemen took her phone as soon as she was allowed to call Geralt. They asked her for ID, for her name, her age. But Ciri had left everything at Adon’s place, including her wits. All she wanted was Geralt, for him to come and take her home, before the cops decided this was her fault. Geralt told her they did bad things to mutants.</p><p>“Sir, you’re going to need to step back,” a policeman growled authoritatively.</p><p>A crowd Ciri had barely noticed was forming, and the police were trying to dispel it. Then, she heard his voice.</p><p>“My name is Geralt Rivia. That girl there, that’s my kid, Ciri. I’m her guardian.”</p><p>She looked over wildly and her feet began moving of their own accord. Tears streamed down Ciri’s face when Geralt met her eye. He said he’d come and he had, in less time than should have been humanly possible. Ciri couldn’t think of anything except going to him. She shook violently, but a strong hand stopped her from taking another step.</p><p>“Please, my d-dad is here,” Ciri pleaded with the officer.</p><p>She heard Geralt do the same. “She’s fourteen. A minor. I have to know what’s going on. Can I talk to her?”</p><p>“Sir, please step back.”</p><p>“Okay. Look, she’s not wearing a jacket,” Geralt was starting to sound mad. “It’s sub-freezing. Let me give her mine. Please.”</p><p>“Sir. Step. Back.”</p><p>“Geralt?” Ciri called out, sensing danger. She said, in a quiet voice she knew he’d hear, “I didn’t do anything and they don’t believe me. I’m scared, Geralt. I’m--” </p><p>Panic set in. Ciri wrenched free of the hold around her and ran toward the yellow tape. Toward Geralt.</p><p>The surrounding officers exclaimed and moved to stop her. They got Ciri easily and her wrists found her back. She cried out, scared they were going to put her in handcuffs.</p><p>Then, there was a precise burst of wind, and men blew away like leaves. It came again, white-blue and violent, and she realized it was coming from Geralt’s hands. He tore past the police tape and marched toward her, taking out anyone in his path, the blasts strong enough to send parked cars skidding.</p><p>Some part of Ciri knew this was really bad. But in the moment, she was relieved. Geralt was coming for her and they were going to go home, and those policemen wouldn’t realize what hit them. </p><p>“Geralt,” she said, running to him. A shadow caught her attention, jerking uneasily forward, and raising a gun.</p><p>Geralt didn’t see it in time, he was almost at Ciri’s side. The shot fired. Ciri screamed, more loudly than she ever had in all her life.</p><p>There was an implosion. It came from her chest and expanded, making the ground quake and the winds rise and the wharf waters churn. The world turned to chaos around them. And yet, in front of Ciri, there was only Geralt, unhurt, and a spheric shield surrounding them.</p><p>She’d saved him. She became once more abstractly aware of the destruction in their surroundings, aware of the way traffic was disturbed, how people screamed as they were thrown back, lest they found something to hold on to. </p><p>The policemen were terrified, the firefighters could barely keep their footing. And Mr. Pankratz was there, his arm fastened tightly against the opened door of his car, as he saw everything, from the quaking earth to the frigid winds, carrying snow everywhere, except within the shield in which Geralt and Ciri stood. Safe from the world, safe from everything.</p><p>“Hey,” Geralt said sharply, taking her by the shoulders. “You okay?”</p><p>Ciri couldn’t answer him. Her feet were leaving the ground. In her trance, she felt glad Geralt was okay, that the bullet meant to take him down hadn’t hit. Her scream stopped it, saved his life, but it couldn’t have stopped what happened to Adon. <i>Oh, God, Adon...</i></p><p>“Ciri, you need to control this thing,” Geralt said, “or people are going to get hurt.”</p><p>Adon. It was all Cahir’s fault. There had been so much blood, and it was all on Ciri. The look in his eyes had been terrified. Ciri had told him not to trust Cahir. But he didn’t listen. He wouldn’t listen to her.</p><p>“Ciri,” Geralt shouted, looking strangely small, as Ciri levitated higher. “Stop. <i>Now.</i>”</p><p>Something snapped inside her and Ciri plummeted. At the last moment, Geralt caught her. The winds abated and the earthquake came to a standstill. She did not recall falling unconscious. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Ciri’s head was on a table when she awoke. It felt like it had imploded and throbbed incessantly, with immense pressure at her nape. Her mouth and throat felt dry, and her head buzzed. There was crimson residue on the table where her cheek had been, the acrid scent of metal stronger than she had ever been able to smell before.</p><p>A man in a suit entered the room a few minutes later. He gave Ciri a bottle of water and she realized when she tried to drink that she was handcuffed to a table. The man asked her questions but Ciri couldn’t understand a word he was saying, the buzz and pounding in her head increasing with intensity. A woman came after, also in a suit, with a police officer. Ciri watched them blankly, unable to speak.</p><p>She didn’t know whether one minute or one hour had passed, when someone else finally came to uncuff her, and lead her out of the room. A tall and familiar woman awaited. Ciri looked up and the urge to cry made itself known.</p><p>“Auntie Roach.” Ciri staggered to her, feeling weak, and hugged her aunt.</p><p>“It’s alright, sweetheart. I am representing you and Geralt now. They can’t hold you like this.”</p><p>Ciri looked up, in her eyes, the only question she could possibly have. Geralt was sitting with a couple of suspect looking characters behind bars. Ciri realized they were at the police station. She went to him and he rose at once.</p><p>“Are you okay?” he asked her.</p><p>Ciri nodded and wove her fingers through the bars to touch his hands. “I’m sorry,” she said, fighting her tears. “They put you here because of me.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about that. Do whatever Roach says, you got it?”</p><p>“What about you?”</p><p>“Don’t worry about me.” Geralt gave her a small smile.  “I’m glad you’re okay.”</p><p>“I don’t want to leave you,” Ciri insisted. </p><p>“I’ll be home soon,” Geralt said. “Go.”</p><p>Auntie Roach came for her and Ciri looked back at Geralt for as long as she could. There were moments afterwards during which she blanked completely, floating in a haze. </p><p>Ciri had her fingerprints taken, and her picture. They asked her some questions about the party, while Roach sat vigilantly next to her. Ciri said she didn’t remember anything other than having to run away, and the accident. Auntie Roach did the rest of the talking.</p><p>Eventually, she was outside, while Auntie Roach talked to someone familiar. They were asking about Geralt, and Roach said she would handle it, it would just take a bit more time.</p><p>“He’s unregistered,” Roach said dismally. “But he still has rights. In the meantime, I need you to take Cirilla home. Here is the spare key from Geralt. Stay with her.”</p><p>“Of course. You’ll call me, won’t you?” </p><p>Ciri realized it was Jaskier.</p><p>“As soon as I know anything. It’s going to be fine,” Roach said. “I know cases like these. See you tomorrow.”</p><p>Jaskier didn’t look appeased, but he nodded and came over to Ciri. He gave her the same small, brave smile Geralt had, like it would somehow help all of this feel less shitty.</p><p>“Cirilla,” he said gently, “I’m parked just round the corner. I’m going to take you home, alright?”</p><p>Ciri didn’t answer. She followed him and sat in his car, worried the smell of blood would linger after she was gone. The ride felt quick. Jaskier unlocked the door and switched on the apartment lights. Ciri wanted to sleep for three days and wake up from this bad dream. She felt numb, her mind blank, and the headache waged war against her skull.</p><p>“Right,” Jaskier said. “You’ll probably want something to eat. Erm, a bath, I presume, or--” Ciri stormed away from him and slammed the bathroom door shut, just as Jaskier said, “Let me know if you… need anything, then.”</p><p>She spent almost an hour trying to scrub the blood from her face and hands. Ciri wanted to throw away her clothes and never see them again. She washed her hair until her scalp felt tender. When the urge to cry came, Ciri let it happen, realizing she was scared above all else for Geralt and for Adon. She didn’t know what would happen to them, and when she tried to recall the party, her memory betrayed her.</p><p>In her room, Ciri changed languidly, feeling bone tired even though she knew fear wouldn’t allow her any sleep. She found Jaskier sitting at the dining table. There was a bowl of milk and a box of cereal waiting for her.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” Jaskier asked.</p><p>“I don’t know.” Her throat felt raw and her voice sounded it, too.</p><p>“I’ll make you a cup of tea,” Jaskier suggested. “You eat this, if you can, unless you’d like something else.”</p><p>Ciri didn’t think she could taste food at that moment, but she forced herself to let the cereal sog, and a little bit of her appetite came to her. The hot tea Jaskier made was sweet and sour, but the warmth soothed her throat.</p><p>“Honey and lemon,” Jaskier said. “But if your throat is painful, you’re better off with a painkiller or two. Tea will only go so far.”</p><p>She silently took his advice. The clock hands ticked nearby and Ciri realized it was the middle of the night. She looked up to Jaskier and found him tired and sad, expressions which did not suit him.</p><p>“I didn’t mean,” she said quietly, “to do anything bad. That cop was going to shoot Geralt. I got scared…”</p><p>Jaskier stared at her and Ciri wondered what he was thinking.</p><p>“He sent those people flying long before you did.”</p><p>“You saw that,” Ciri gulped.</p><p>“You are both capable,” Jaskier said carefully, “of great things. You have… abilities.”</p><p>“He didn’t tell you,” Ciri realized, and she wished Geralt was around so she could smack him.</p><p>Jaskier smiled wryly. “He told me his brothers were mutants.”</p><p>“I get it from my mom,” Ciri said. “It’s in my genes. I’m not sure about Geralt.”</p><p>“An experiment.” Jaskier closed his eyes and sighed deeply, looking pained. “Everything he told me about his brothers, the horrible things that were done to them as boys. God, he was talking about himself.”</p><p>“Do you hate him,” Ciri asked, “now that you know?”</p><p>Jaskier made steeples of his hands and considered the question. “I’m in love with him, Cirilla. I don’t think I can ever hate him for what he is.” He sighed, nodding again, like he had another realization. “<i>What</i> he is. Of course. It’s been staring me in the face the entire time.”</p><p>“I told him to tell you a long time ago. He doesn’t listen,” she said. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>In answer, Ciri took off her contacts, and showed Jaskier her eyes for the first time. They weren’t as distinct as Geralt’s, but they were very blue-green.</p><p>“We’re not supposed to let people know what we are,” Ciri said. “Geralt wears them too, but he needs it more than me. Now, it doesn’t matter. The police know.”</p><p>“Listen to me,” Jaskier reached out to Ciri. “I’m not going to let anything happen to the two of you. Do you understand? We’ll get through this, together.”</p><p>“I’m scared of what’s going to happen,” Ciri heard herself say. “But I hope you mean that.”</p><p>She abruptly left Jaskier at the table, put her dishes into the sink, and went to try and get some sleep. It would never come to her with the incessant buzzing in her head.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Jaskier was on the couch when Ciri came out of her room, looking even more exhausted than she felt. She guessed he hadn’t slept either. His phone had rung at one point earlier, and Ciri heard him speak in hushed tones.</p><p>Now, he watched a video. Ciri would have gone straight for the kitchen if she didn’t catch what the news reporter was saying.</p><p>“<i>Police arrested a local Boston man last night in a mutant freak accident</i>…”</p><p>Ciri went to Jaskier and he jumped, fumbling to pause the video.</p><p>“Leave it,” she told him.</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>Ciri looked as a mugshot of Geralt was shown. His gold eyes were out and he looked disheveled, nowhere near her neat and tidy guardian. Ciri clenched her fists. The news made it sound like he did what Ciri had, like everything was his fault.</p><p>“They’re lying,” she said, moving away from Jaskier. “He told me to stop. I can’t control it.”</p><p>“Cirilla…”</p><p>“Geralt is in trouble because of me.” Anger set into her face. “Take me back to the police station.”</p><p>Jaskier frowned and took to his feet. “You know I can’t do that. Roach said—”</p><p>“I want to see him,” Ciri insisted.</p><p>“Cirilla, no,” Jaskier said sternly.</p><p>“Fine. It’s not like you can stop me.” She stormed back toward her room and slammed the door to change, ignoring Jaskier’s hesitant footsteps lingering nearby. Then, she heard him walk away.</p><p>From outside came distinct shouting. Ciri ran out of her room and found Jaskier downstairs, opening the front door. There was a blur of white and gold. Geralt stormed past him unseeingly, locked eyes with Ciri, and went in three steps to her. Ciri leapt into his arms and gave him a tight hug, feeling a million different things and not knowing which to focus on.</p><p>“You’re okay,” she said. “What happened?”</p><p>Geralt didn’t answer. Once he seemed satisfied with roving her for injuries, his hand fisted into her hair and forced her to twist. Ciri cried out in pain.</p><p>“Ow! Geralt--”</p><p>“Roach,” Geralt snarled, “they put one in Ciri, too. Is that legal?”</p><p>“When you are unregistered and get arrested, it is,” Roach said, calmly coming up beside Jaskier.</p><p>“Let me go,” Ciri groaned, pulling Geralt by the forearm. “What’s wrong with you?”</p><p>“You have a tracking chip in your neck,” he snapped.</p><p>“W-What?” Ciri felt the back of her head. It had been heavy and painful the previous night. She thought it was due to her collapse but there was something at her nape, like a scab. “What is it? Get it out.”</p><p>“They can’t do that.” Geralt rounded on Roach, looking more feral than Ciri had ever seen him. “She’s a minor, they can’t put a fucking tracking device in her.”</p><p>Ciri stared at him and saw the slight burn mark, almost like a brand, at his own nape, realizing he had one, too. All at once, she felt the urge to vomit. </p><p>Ciri raced to empty her stomach in the bathroom, and doubled over until there was nothing left. She cleaned up and splashed her face, wishing Geralt would just stop shouting for one second. He was making her headache worse.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” she heard him bite, emerging to find his new temper was now set on Jaskier. “You need to leave.”</p><p>“You’re joking, right?” Jaskier answered.</p><p>Geralt took a step closer. “No,” he growled. “Leave. Now.”</p><p>Jaskier gaped at Roach, who said, “He brought Cirilla back while I stayed, Geralt--”</p><p>“He shouldn’t be here.”</p><p>Geralt turned away from all of them and grasped his head with a feral groan, as though it was being split open before his eyes. Ciri could see the flash of his gaze, growing more prominent than usual until it dimmed and pooled with darkness. She felt something was deeply wrong with him.</p><p>“You need to leave, Jaskier,” Geralt said.</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” Jaskier replied. “I should be here. You don’t scare me, Geralt--”</p><p>“<i>I fucking should</i>,” Geral roared.</p><p>Ciri covered her ears and walked away, wishing she could disappear from this nightmare. She hated all of it. It was all her fault. </p><p>Roach stepped in, ordering Geralt to retreat to his room and cool off. She told Jaskier to give him a second, but the music teacher seemed agitated, unwilling to listen.  Eventually Roach came to Ciri and hugged her.</p><p>“Let me make you some lunch,” she said.</p><p>“I’m not hungry,” Ciri protested weakly.</p><p>“You’ll eat anyway. The mind follows the body,” Roach said. “Come on.”</p><p>Ciri’s only reprieve was watching her aunt prepare a meal. She tried hard to focus on what Roach was doing, but she could hear Geralt and Jaskier talking in the other room. </p><p>“What happened?” Jaskier wanted to know. “Your arrest… it’s made the news.”</p><p>“Court. In the horizon,” Geralt sounded strained. “I could go to jail. You have to leave, Jaskier.”</p><p>“I told you, I’m not going anywhere. Look at me, Geralt.”</p><p>“No…”</p><p>“Darling, please.”</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt said, shakily, “<i>go</i>. I can’t predict my actions right now, not with this thing in my spine.”</p><p>“All the more reason for me to stay, then. You’re not in this alone, Geralt. You need me here. I need to be here.”</p><p>Ciri squeezed her eyes shut when their voices were drowned out by the increasing buzz in her head. A plate of steaming eggs was placed in front of her, interrupting it, and Ciri’s stomach churned at the sight.</p><p>“Eat,” Roach said. “You need it.”</p><p>“Is Geralt going to go to jail?” Ciri whispered.</p><p>“Not on my watch,” Roach said, frowning. “But this won’t just go away. I’m going to handle his case and give him a good defense. It’s going to take a while, though.”</p><p>“What about me? I know it was all my fault,” she said, “the blast. Not what happened to Ad--” The urge to cry returned to Ciri and she choked it down.</p><p>“Nothing is going to happen to you, sweetheart,” Roach said. “I promise to make sure you and Geralt are both registered soon.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”</p><p>“But what if I did?”</p><p>“You didn’t,” Roach decided. “We leave it at that. Now, eat.”</p><p>Ciri forced herself to do so, hoping she would manage to keep it down.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>She spent most of the day in vertigo. Ciri put her hair in a bun and used a hand mirror to check for the back of her neck. The digital imprint was there, prickling, but she couldn’t remember this being done to her. She looked on the internet and read that police had the right to chip unregistered mutants in order to track them, until they were registered. </p><p>The chip could only be removed with specialized tools many hospitals were not permitted to carry. Side effects included a bunch of scary things Ciri had to stop reading after a while, but it explained the ill feeling that kept coming so frequently over her.</p><p>She went to bed, hoping it would help somewhat, but she fell into a fitful nightmare replaying the party at Adon’s house. Everything started out so normal. They were in the basement just hanging out, listening to music and laughing as people came one at a time. </p><p>Ciri was so happy when she didn’t see Cahir and Fringilla at first. Adon had his arm around her and she was holding him, smiling, laughing. And then Cahir and Fringilla turned up with brown paper bags. They changed the music, the drinks, suggested new games to play.</p><p>Ciri felt her body go tense and a pressure came over her, like she was stuck in the nightmare and couldn’t wake up. Everything was a blur. The knives, the dares she told Adon not to do, but he wouldn’t listen. And he started bleeding so much and it was all on Ciri, who couldn’t stop screaming no matter how hard she tried.</p><p>“Wake up,” Geralt ordered, and Ciri flew as though possessed out of bed. She felt a pair of arms steady her, and Ciri fought them, at first. “Calm down. I’m here. It’s okay.”</p><p>Sweat coated her skin and her head was hurting again. The moment Ciri began to relax in Geralt’s arms, bile rose to the back of her throat. </p><p>Ciri raced out and went to vomit. Geralt followed, patted her back, and cleaned up after her. Ciri went back to bed and a mug was pressed in her hands a few minutes later. It tasted weird. She didn’t know what it was, but she drank.</p><p>“I can’t keep anything down, either,” Geralt said, a hand running over the back of his neck. “You okay?”</p><p>Ciri shook her head and she felt like crying, utterly exhausted. “I’m scared,” she said, “for Adon.”</p><p>“He’s in the hospital,” Geralt said. “Along with the other kid. The one who got hit by the car. Ciri, what happened?”</p><p>“It was Cahir’s fault,” she said firmly. “I ran away and he came after me and those two cars crashed… and…” Her head felt muddled, she couldn’t go on. Geralt hushed her, bid her to drink. Electrolytes, he said. She was dehydrated. “I don’t want you to go to jail, Geralt.”</p><p>Geralt frowned at her, saying only, “Don’t worry about that. You just focus on getting better.”</p><p>“You’re going to take the blame for what I did,” Ciri said. “You can’t do that. That’s how the news is making it look but it’s not true.”</p><p>“I have to keep you safe, Ciri. I can’t fuck up again.”</p><p>She wanted to complain but Geralt rose and turned his back on her. Ciri didn’t have the strength to go after him. She was at least glad to see him calmer. Poor Jaskier hadn’t warranted all the snapping and roaring from earlier, something even Ciri rarely, if ever, saw.</p><p>The ensuing days passed in a blur. Ciri felt too sick to go to school. Everytime she checked the news there was Geralt’s face and that horrible mugshot. There was video footage of the implosion, talks about the damages. No one was dead, but Cahir’s injuries along with the accidents nearby were amplified and made to seem like it all happened at the exact same time.</p><p>Geralt couldn’t go to work. Ciri thought at first it was because of police orders. Then she overheard him on the phone, pleading with his bosses not to be let go, citing having done good work, always on time, citing having a kid, bills. </p><p>The ensuing crash made her jump. Geralt had broken something in frustration, and Roach told him things were going to work out. She would help. Jaskier, who came by every day after school and had stayed as much as he could, despite being repeatedly asked to leave, entered five minutes after. Ciri squeezed her eyes shut when Geralt just about lost it on him.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>She returned to school after about a week. Roach went back to Portsmouth, though she was commuting fairly often to work on Geralt’s legal case, planning to eventually return with a suitcase and spend some extra time with them. Danek and Dara both agreed it might be less taxing than driving every day, so Geralt temporarily moved out of his room. It was strange, seeing him at home before she left for school, and seeing him right there when she came back. He was morose, but then, so was she.</p><p>Nobody talked to her in school and people stared and called her names. No one made any effort to even pretend to be nice. She stopped going to lunch, the cafeteria made her sick anyway. When she caught the librarian leering at her, Ciri stopped going there, too. The Minstrels in band went quiet when she entered the music room, despite Jaskier’s best efforts. Ciri sat close to him in silence, counting down the minutes until the bell rang.</p><p>“I’ll see you after school,” Jaskier would say every time, always offering to drop her home, to shop for groceries, to do anything he could to help her and Geralt. He seemed to be the only nice person left, even though she could tell he and Geralt were having a hard time.</p><p>One day, during the second to last period in Algebra, her phone buzzed. The notification from the news read: <i>Local Boston Teen Dies in Hospital After Complications</i>. Ciri opened the article, her heart pounding, not knowing if it was Cahir, or… She read the first line and stopped there. </p><p>Adon’s name, black on the white background. Ciri’s vision blurred and something deep inside her broke, hurting as badly as it did when her grandparents were killed.</p><p>A sudden gust of wind picked up in the class and blew outwardly. Students screamed as a window burst, shattering clean with the immense frantic energy coming from Ciri. The teacher told students to take cover. Some got their phones out and started recording her. Ciri sobbed and another window exploded outwardly, her colorless energy intent on destroying the school.</p><p>But then, everything stopped as abruptly as it began. The bell rang and Ciri grabbed her stuff. She ran out, with most of the other scared people, before the teacher could get to her. The only thing on her mind was to leave school and never come back. She just wanted to go home. She couldn’t tell Jaskier, she would just skip out and take the bus.</p><p>A punch sent her crashing down. Ciri cried out, blood filling her mouth, and she looked up to see Marilka’s tear-streaked face above her.</p><p>“Murderer!” Marilka screamed.</p><p>Ciri covered her face with her arms and wept, scratches and blows landing on her skin. She felt so scared, she wanted to disappear, for everything to stop.</p><p>“Hey! What the bloody hell is going on here? Get <i>off</i>.” Jaskier, having come out of nowhere, pulled Marilka off and contained her. Other teachers came into view.</p><p>“She killed my brother,” Marilka shouted, thrashing in Jaskier’s arms until another teacher took her away.</p><p>Ciri couldn’t stop shaking, but something told her to pick herself up from the floor. She remained determined to get the hell out of here.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Jaskier’s blue eyes were wide with concern. “Ciri-- Oh, God. You’re bleeding…”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Ciri heard herself say.</p><p>“Come with me.”</p><p>“No,” she said viciously, “let me go.”</p><p>“I can’t do that.” Jaskier drew her away from the situation, snapping at the observing students, “Don’t you all have studying to do? Move! Go on.”</p><p>The school nurse made the bleeding stop and gave Ciri a compress, disinfectant and band-aids for the scratches. “There’s no break,” she said stiffly, staring at Ciri with disdain.</p><p>“Are you sure?” Jaskier crossed his arms and glared back. “If I take her to hospital and find you’ve been negligent, Janice, mark my words, I am taking this up to the principal.”</p><p>“There’s no break, Mr. Pankratz,” the nurse repeated. “Her lip is busted, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”</p><p>“Will she need stitches?”</p><p>“No,” she sniffed.</p><p>Jaskier didn’t seem satisfied and Ciri didn’t care. She couldn’t get Marilka’s face out of her head, or the thought of Adon being gone. He didn’t deserve it. He did nothing wrong, except for listen to his stupid friends.</p><p>“I hope for your sake that you’re right. Come along, Cirilla,” Jaskier said. </p><p>She followed him out, they went to lock up his classroom, and they left.</p><p>“The windows,” she realized in the car, after a long stretch of silence.</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“In the classroom,” she gasped. “I broke them. We don’t have money to pay for the damages…”</p><p>Jaskier shot her a worried glance. “If it comes down to it,” he said, “which I don’t think it will, I’ll deal with it. You don’t have to worry. Anyway, I’m sure it was an accident.”</p><p>“It wasn’t an accident,” Ciri told him. </p><p>“Did you do it on purpose?”</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“Then,” Jaskier sighed, “that counts as an accident, and the school will be none the wiser.”</p><p>“People recorded me, Jaskier!”</p><p>“Cirilla, look,” he said, “I don’t understand what you can do. But I’ve come to learn, since Geralt’s arrest, people will say and do anything they want to justify hatred toward mutants. We’re going to say it’s an accident and let the city deal with the repairs. End of story.”</p><p>Ciri decided he was probably right. No use giving people more fuel for their fire. One thing was for certain, she would never have a normal school day again for the rest of this year.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>JASKIER</b>
</p><p>It was nearly the end of April. The pollen in the air invaded his car, making his eyes water. It took Cirilla sneezing miserably for Jaskier to decidedly click the windows shut.</p><p>Exhaustion wore down on him. Jaskier felt as though he’d aged more in the past few weeks than he had the last six years. Between the scare of Yennefer’s hospitalization, Geralt and Cirilla’s arrest, and a school fight he still didn’t know how to break to his boyfriend, it seemed like every hour was a test of his will.</p><p>They wove around Adams Park in Roslindale to merge back onto Washington Street, and pulled into Geralt’s neighborhood within a few minutes. Jaskier parked, grateful the permit sticker acquired weeks ago still allowed his visits. He couldn’t decide between bothering Geralt to get him an updated one, and being towed, which was quite worse.</p><p>“Alright there?” he asked Cirilla, while they crossed the parking lot. Her bruises had darkened, her lip swollen, but Jaskier wanted to think it looked worse than it was.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said, lowering the ice pack from school, “I’m going to take some more Advil.”</p><p>“Sounds like a plan. You go on, whilst I tell Geralt what happened.”</p><p>Cirilla cast him a worried look. “I should probably tell him,” she said. “If he’s going to lose his temper over this, it might as well be on me.”</p><p>Jaskier admired the teenage girl for such a statement, after the news she received, and being assaulted. She was a thousand times stronger than Jaskier felt sometimes.</p><p>Ever since the arrests, Geralt behaved differently around Jaskier, almost distrustfully, in spite of Jaskier’s constant reassurances; in spite of the way he volunteered to bring Cirilla home as many times as possible, and was constantly coordinating with Roach to figure out what more he could do to help, from running errands, and sifting endless job listings for Geralt, to navigating health insurance coverage during the uncertain period.</p><p>Geralt had taken to avoiding eye-contact, lowering his head, never allowing Jaskier more than a few seconds to even have a proper look at those striking, liquid gold irises. More often than not, he’d just ask Jaskier to leave. And maybe Jaskier deserved that, for the awful things he’d stupidly said about mutants, which he now regretted worse than anything he’d ever said.</p><p>“No, my dear.” Jaskier gave Cirilla’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’ve been through enough. I’ll field this one.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Ciri said, and they made their way inside.</p><p>Geralt sat in the same place Jaskier had left him late the previous afternoon, staring directly ahead. He turned to them, like he’d been waiting, and looked right at Ciri.</p><p>“What the fuck?” Geralt snapped, in a tone Jaskier was starting to know well.</p><p>“Cirilla, sweetheart,” Jaskier said, gently, “go on to your room, please.”</p><p>She didn’t need to be told twice. Geralt took to his feet, hands curling into fists, and he was a mountain of tightly coiled muscles and fumes as he made to follow the girl. Jaskier took a risk and stood in his way. The ensuing reluctance to meet his eye made his heart squeeze, as Geralt glared mightily in the direction Cirilla had gone.</p><p>“Adon passed away, Geralt,” Jaskier said, quietly, “in hospital earlier today. Cirilla, as I understand it, accidentally caused a bit of damage to her math classroom. I am guessing from the shock of the news. And… the boy’s sister. She hit Cirilla.”</p><p>“You let that happen?”</p><p>Tension built within Jaskier at the immediate blame. It was unlike Geralt to speak thus, but painfully familiar, and unsafe. A dormant instinct within Jaskier roused, and told him to get out of this situation, to run as far as he could, before it got worse and the blame piled on until he was left gasping for breath.</p><p>“I stepped in,” Jaskier said, firmly, “when I realized what was going on and broke them apart. I took Ciri to the school nurse and checked the witch, when I realized she felt herself above helping Cirilla, now that the school knows about her abilities. And I brought your daughter home. That’s what I did, Geralt. Now if that isn’t enough for you, I don’t know what more to tell you.”</p><p>Geralt’s breathing evened, raggedly, and the impressive glower on his face dimmed slightly. “I… I’m sorry,” he said, unexpectedly. “You did everything you can. I just… I need to talk to her.”</p><p>“Give her some space,” Jaskier said, when Geralt moved around him. “I think it looks worse than it is.”</p><p>Geralt paused outside Ciri’s room and hung his head, eventually returning to occupy his place on the couch. Jaskier longed to go to him, to comfort him and hold his eye for longer than two seconds. But Geralt’s phone rang. He answered affirmatively for a few moments, and then grimly hung up.</p><p>“That was the school,” Geralt said. “Ciri and I have to go in. Talk about this mess.”</p><p>“As expected.” Jaskier decidedly went toward Geralt, lowering tiredly beside him. Their desire for each other had been sparked on this couch. Now it felt like they were almost strangers. “I can be there. I’ll take the period off, or the day. Whatever you need. Ciri is concerned the school will make you pay for damages, though I don’t think it will come to that.”</p><p>“And if it does?” Geralt said, sharply.</p><p>“Then,” Jaskier sighed, “we’ll deal with it. But I won’t let this pile on for you.”</p><p>“I don’t want your money, Jaskier.”</p><p>Jaskier blinked. “That’s not what I was saying, Geralt, only that I know the principal, and everyone at that school. I have a voice there. And even if it did come down to money… Geralt, it would be nothing for me to do this, if it meant one less problem for you.”</p><p>“It’s not nothing to me,” Geralt replied, stiffly.</p><p>Jaskier paused and reconsidered. “Alright,” he said, “I won’t suggest something like this again, then. But I will fight the school on this for you, and her. Cirilla’s been through enough as it is, you both have.”</p><p>Geralt didn’t say anything in answer. Jaskier stared at him, for upwards of five minutes, in complete silence, and he wasn’t afforded a single look, or touch, or sound. This had gone on, to the same relative degree, for a few weeks now. Jaskier pretended to remain unaffected.</p><p>It felt like, after months of building toward what he was starting to believe was Geralt working up the courage to tell Jaskier he was a mutant, Geralt no longer wanted Jaskier to see this newly exposed side of him. As though the arrest had ruined it all, a part so carefully hidden which, to Jaskier, was of such little significance in the grand scheme of who he’d fallen in love with.</p><p>Geralt didn’t seem to realize Jaskier didn’t care that he was a mutant. There was no use dwelling on not being told sooner, though Jaskier would not have thought twice if he’d learned about it in the same breath Geralt had revealed being a butcher.</p><p>It seemed ironic and cruel that he should finally know under such difficult circumstances, only to watch Geralt slip away from him like sand through a sieve, with nothing to catch the remains.</p><p>“Darling,” Jaskier touched him on the arm, and leaned over to press a kiss along his stubbled jaw. “I know this is a lot. I am here for you. I do love you, so dearly, and I don’t care that you’re a mutant.”</p><p>“You should,” Geralt said. “This is who I am.”</p><p>“And I understand that,” Jaskier replied, quickly, “I acknowledge and accept it, and I still want to be here and to be yours, and to make this work. Please hear me on this, Geralt. Or just… look at me.”</p><p>Geralt was slow to relent, but he did, much like a wounded beast, and he was so beautiful to Jaskier, so much more precious and special than he could have imagined.</p><p>“You don’t think I’m a monster?” Geralt murmured.</p><p>“Never,” Jaskier breathed, deeply and emphatically. He grabbed Geralt and kissed him, because he knew why such a thought entered Geralt’s head, and he wished words could be taken back. “You are not a monster, Geralt Rivia.”</p><p>“Still a mutant,” Geralt said, and his jaw stiffened beneath Jaskier’s palm. “Still an anomaly.”</p><p>“Darling, please…”</p><p>Geralt rose suddenly. “I have to check on Ciri,” he said, gruffly, “she must be really sad about her friend. Please leave.”</p><p>Jaskier opened his mouth to answer but Geralt went to Ciri’s room.</p><p>“Of course,” Jaskier replied, to the empty living room. “I’ll… go make myself useful.”</p><p>He checked the nearest window, wondering if it was open, only to realize upon finding it shut that the pollen was no longer to blame for the moisture starting in his eyes.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>The only way Jaskier could do a grocery run for them was if Geralt remained under the impression Roach was helping to cover the expenses. Against her advice, Geralt had burned through his remaining income and savings within a month. Jaskier couldn’t even think back on the ensuing shouting competition without inducing a headache.</p><p>It was agreed Roach would help with housing and bill expenses, while Geralt filed for unemployment. It was his best option, other than finding work that paid cash, which Roach advised against until his court date passed. She didn’t want police sniffing about him now that they could track him easily.</p><p>It left Jaskier to deal privately with Roach, willingly volunteering to ease the financial burden, in the interim of the benefits kicking in. Jaskier could only wonder what it felt like to be Roach, who Geralt only had a slight problem being indebted to. A fierce love and loyalty shared among kin, where money remained a point of contention, yes, but not a divisive one.</p><p>Jaskier did leave that afternoon, after Geralt asked him, though not before checking the house and making a list in order to head to a store. He picked up a few extra items for himself, even though he wasn’t spending much time in his own apartment of late.</p><p>“I am sorry I can’t help put these away,” Jaskier said, when Geralt helped bring in the last of the bags, “I have to go and pick up Yen for her physiotherapy appointment.”</p><p>“How much did all this cost?” Geralt asked. “You make a list?”</p><p>“I did. I’ll tally up with Roach, don’t worry,” Jaskier said swiftly. “Please make sure you and Cirilla eat something, if you can. I’ll call to check in a bit later on, alright?” He received a grunt, but Jaskier took it in stride, forcing Geralt to halt and giving him a parting kiss. “Love you.”</p><p>“I love you too, Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice low, when Jaskier was almost gone. He had his back to Jaskier but his tone was different. Not gentler, but self aware. “I know I’m being an asshole but… I see what you’re doing for me and Ciri. And I love you.”</p><p>While Jaskier did not need to be reminded of just why he stayed, being acknowledged went a long way. He returned, going to hold Geralt from behind in his arms.</p><p>“I know, darling,” he said simply. “It’s hard, with everything that’s happened, to be yourself. That’s why I’m not going anywhere. Well, except for now.” He kissed Geralt fondly on the shoulder, “I really must be going or Yen will have my head. Kiss Ciri for me?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>With that said, Jaskier hopped in his car, scarfed down a sandwich and drove to Yennefer’s place.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, as soon as she opened the door, “I had to run a few errands for Geralt.”</p><p>“Not surprising,” Yennefer snipped.</p><p>“Oh, come now, not you too?” Jaskier led her to his car, helping her when needed, otherwise letting her be.</p><p>She’d been out of hospital a couple of weeks now, and had yet to be back on the job. She was healing, but she had a lot of physical pain to work through. Jaskier was more than happy to drive her to her appointments, as she would have done the same were the roles reversed.</p><p>Twice weekly was not bad, and it gave them a chance to catch up. That is, once he’d learned there were certain topics, like the incident surrounding her accident, that she preferred to avoid.</p><p>Jaskier had made the mistake of asking about the case once, inquiring about the mutant arrested, and Yennefer had, after the explosive argument, opted not to talk to him the entire ride back. To his knowledge, gathered from the news and research, it was another unregistered arrest for some kind of drug possession.</p><p>Why that would lead to a full blown shoot-out was beyond him, yet upsetting to Yennefer. He’d never asked again, in part because of how shockingly close to home it now hit, as that mutant could have been Geralt.</p><p>“How is he, anyway?” Yennefer asked.</p><p>“I don’t know, really,” Jaskier said. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t quite reach him when we talk. He’s under a lot of stress and I’m doing all I can to make his life easier.”</p><p>“He should have registered,” she said, not for the first time.</p><p>“What do you know about this chip he’s been administered?” Jaskier wondered. “It seems a bit barbaric, I think, to shove a tracking device in one's spine. It’s branding.”</p><p>“We only pop the chip under arrest, when one is found in registration violation.”</p><p>“Well, Geralt was ill shortly after,” Jaskier continued, “both he and Cirilla. Just violently so, too. Unable to keep food down, aches, chills, constant fatigue. And he’s... <i>so</i> angry. All the time. Is that normal?”</p><p>“Look, I don’t know,” Yennefer sighed. “We just do our job. Yeah, some people go mental on that chip, though I’m pretty sure that depends on the mutation.”</p><p>Jaskier was alarmed by her casual tone. “Well, are there no regulations? These side effects could be dangerous.”</p><p>“I don’t know, babes.”</p><p>He quieted, since pushing would just lead to another argument. “Well, Ciri’s doing alright,” he said, “but I am sorry to say her friend passed away. The one injured in his home. The school is going to hold a memorial, but I don’t think she will attend.”</p><p>“Why is that?”</p><p>“The boy’s sister punched her in the face,” Jaskier said. “And she was awful, I mean, I held her back but still. You should see poor Cirilla.”</p><p>“Istredd told me some other kid was hit by a car.”</p><p>“Cahir,” Jaskier sighed. “Don’t know how he’s been, though I suppose no news is good news.”</p><p>“You really think the girl is innocent? Talk around the station, as far as I hear from home, is that the legal case is putting your boyfriend on trial for some damages.”</p><p>“Cirilla,” Jaskier carefully, “did nothing wrong.”</p><p>“She’s a mutant.”</p><p>“She’s fourteen years old, Yennefer, and we don’t know her physiology.”</p><p>“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”</p><p>“You’d want a child put on trial?” Jaskier couldn’t believe his ears, glancing briefly from the road.</p><p>“I’m just saying, not every day you see a mutant defense lawyer running these cases,” Yennefer said. “And if you know something more, you should tell me.”</p><p>“Are you seriously asking me to incriminate Geralt?”</p><p>“Obstruction of justice is a crime, Jaskier.”</p><p>“Yennefer!”</p><p>“Alright,” she sighed, “whatever. I still can’t believe he didn’t tell you sooner.”</p><p>“And now I think I’m starting to understand why.” Jaskier gripped the steering wheel more tightly. “I never would have taken you for…”</p><p>“For what, Jaskier?” she blazed.</p><p>Jaskier held his tongue, knowing where this was going. Yennefer’s injury was cruel, and she was undeserving of it, but it had sparked an ire toward what he was starting to believe was all mutants.</p><p>“Nothing, my darling,” he said. “But you should know, I will not choose between your friendship and my love for Geralt. If you must hate him for what he had no say in becoming, fine, just so long as you know, being a mutant is not all there is to Geralt. It’s not <em>who</em> he is.”</p><p>It remained unclear, from Yennefer’s silence, whether the truce was accepted.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>He attended Adon’s memorial and funeral, for Cirilla, because she had confessed to him that she wanted to be there though she knew she would be unwelcome. Jaskier, after a few days, had a word with the principal about the upcoming meeting with Geralt. He was disheartened to find the head of the school seemed just as intolerant toward mutants, as seemingly everyone he was encountering, a troublesome discovery.</p><p>Nonetheless, he managed to be present in the afternoon when Geralt and Cirilla came by, essentially to be told Cirilla was suspended for damaging school property. She also had to apologize in writing to Marilka.</p><p>Jaskier’s jaw dropped and Geralt’s eyes, no longer hidden now that he’d been on local news, flashed with quiet anger. He pointed out, in his calm, low voice, that Cirilla was the victim. Her face was the evidence, and Jaskier promptly backed him up, as the first teacher to break up the fight.</p><p>The principal remained impassive and said, “We have to follow the policy. Miss Riannon damaged school property, and incited a fight. She is suspended.”</p><p>Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, to say that Ciri was obviously attacked, only to be reined in by a hand on his knee. Ciri’s, clutching pleadingly. <em>Don’t make it worse</em>, she seemed to say.</p><p>“Fine.” Jaskier ground his teeth. “I presume she will be allowed to catch up on her studies in the meantime, so she can pass this year. We’re less than a month away from the Summer Break, surely something can be worked out with her teachers.”</p><p>“Are you willing to work something out with them?” asked the principal.</p><p>“What?” Jaskier frowned, his limbs growing stiff with anger. “Is that a joke?”</p><p>He turned to Ciri beside him, who looked intently at her lap. Geralt, on her other side, stared blankly ahead, and the only thing more alarming than the principal’s blatant prejudice, was their lack of surprise.</p><p>For the first time, Jaskier saw clearly the choice he was making in standing by Geralt, in a world with an alarming number of bigots. He was signing up for a lifetime of prejudiced principals and policemen, of suspicious airport security agents, of unsympathetic managers, and wary healthcare workers, who made him jump through more hoops than he’d realized were present just to find the right coverage for a jobless mutant and his dependent.</p><p>A lifetime, Jaskier realized, of people taking one look at Geralt, to immediately let their preconceived notions speak. The contact lenses, the mild-manners, and the lack of confidence he’d brushed aside, all finally made sense.</p><p>“This is completely unacceptable,” Jaskier said, fiercely. “Your ineptitude is truly remarkable and I’m going to lodge a complaint with the Boston Public Schools district. And yes, I’m willing, considering your outrageous lack of concern, principal. I will speak to her teachers and find a way for Cirilla to distance-learn, so she can pass her tests at the end of the year. You should be ashamed of yourself, as the headmaster of this school. You’re an embarrassment.”</p><p>“Are we done?” Geralt asked icily. The principal nodded. “Come on, Ciri.”</p><p>Jaskier followed them out, forgetting to stop by his classroom to retrieve his spring jacket. It was early May and chillier than he might have liked, but he felt hot with the ire of injustice.</p><p>“That bloody, incompetent swine,” Jaskier fumed. “How dare he? At least he didn’t have the nerve to talk about taxing you for the damages. I just can’t believe this nonsense suspension, and apology--for what?!”</p><p>Geralt and Ciri made no reply. Jaskier supplied, “Don’t worry, either one of you. I know all the freshmen teachers, and I can get Ciri’s schedule from the registrar. We’ll make this work--”</p><p>“Shut up, Jaskier,” Geralt roared, rounding on him. “All of this is your fault, letting Ciri come to that classroom, with your fucking Minstrels and Bards. She never would have met that boy if it wasn’t for you. And now this.”</p><p>Once, when he’d been very young, Jaskier’s father struck him for the first and last time, hard across the cheek. The sting had felt like ice, cutting his face and pooling cold into his being. Jaskier felt the old dread from the moment come over him at that moment.</p><p>In a flash, he saw his childhood, riddled with his father’s perpetual ire and anger over his only son not being enough. His mother’s snippy remarks in agreement. Years later, his first girlfriend, whose own family tormented her, so she took it out on Jaskier. The cruel boy he’d fallen in love with afterwards.</p><p>And then at university, the one. She whom he believed he’d love always and for all time, who left him, and returned, and left again and returned, regardless of whom Jaskier was with, always luring him the same way, only to use old tools to cut him down.</p><p>Jaskier shivered, too terrified to speak, despite the way Geralt’s continued words faded away. He felt small again, insignificant, unwanted. In the back of his mind, the slick voice which greased the old gears of his doubt, returned to whisper: <em>I told you this would happen. They always wait, until you are theirs, to show their true colors. It’s always the same thing</em>.</p><p>For as much as Jaskier had been convinced Geralt was different, finally, from the others, it was hard to remember that in the moment.</p><p>“You’re angry,” Jaskier said, more rationally than he felt. “Probably for the best that it comes out. But you and I both know it isn’t my fault. Why don’t we… rehash this later? Come, I’ll give you guys a ride home.”</p><p>“<em>No</em>,” Geralt said.</p><p>“Ciri?” Jaskier tried, knowing that was unfair. He was greatly surprised when she scooted to his side and took his arm in hers.</p><p>“He’s right, Geralt,” she said. “It’s not his fault. You need to chill out.”</p><p>Something like hurt, and betrayal, flashed into Geralt’s eyes at that. He turned suddenly and walked away. Jaskier put his arm around Ciri and watched him go.</p><p>“He’s not being himself,” he murmured, dismally. “I don’t know who this is.”</p><p>“Me either.” Ciri rubbed the back of her neck. “Thanks for coming to the meeting with us.”</p><p>Jaskier gave her the ghost of a smile. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s probably for the best you’ve been suspended. This school isn’t worth how incredible you are.”</p><p>“Let’s go home,” Ciri said, and Jaskier led the way.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Jaskier waited until Geralt was back home to say goodbye to Ciri. He’d waited just in case the man took longer than expected to cool off, but the commute time from JP to Rozzie seemed correct to Jaskier.</p><p>They didn’t exchange any words when Geralt entered. Wounded as he felt, Jaskier reminded Geralt that he loved him, in spite of what was said. He worried the mutant tracking chip was having worse side effects than there were resources for.</p><p>But there was another problem. Whether under the influence of the chip or not, Geralt was morphing into Jaskier’s worst nightmare. And stressful circumstances aside, he felt deliberately pushed away, by a man he wanted wholly and irrevocably, mutant or human, for richer or poorer. It was clear to him some part of Geralt was now unwilling, perhaps incapable, of accepting this fact.</p><p>Jaskier decided to broach the subject, choosing his timing wisely. Roach had said the benefits were finally coming through and that she was working on a way, in addition to his case, to find him steadier work as soon as the trial was done with. Her confidence that Geralt wouldn’t be convicted was heartening. Now that Jaskier saw, only through what felt like a keyhole, what the life of a mutant could be like, it terrified him to think Geralt could spend decades behind bars.</p><p>He went to the apartment one weekend and volunteered to help with dinner. Cirilla, whom he was in contact with to coordinate her classwork, wasn’t spending much time outside of her room, and Jaskier also came to try and cheer her up. It seemed to work a bit once he played music and involved her in helping with the meal.</p><p>Geralt was calm. He hadn’t apologized for his outburst at the school, but he remained docile. They would learn of his court date in the coming week, the last of May, and Jaskier didn’t think there was any better time to talk than the present.</p><p>They had a quiet dinner together and after a bit, Cirilla seemed livened enough to spend some extra time cleaning up with Jaskier. Once she retired to bed, Geralt asked Jaskier if he was leaving or spending the night. Jaskier stared in shock, wishing they could just fall into bed and fuck the problems away.</p><p>“I wanted to talk about something, actually,” Jaskier said, his voice gentle and his smile easy. “If you’re not too tired. Can we sit down?”</p><p>“Fuck.” Geralt closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I knew this was coming.”</p><p>“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,” Jaskier said, “but unless you’re a mind reader and haven’t said, you don’t know what’s coming. No, it isn’t what you think. Whatever that is.”</p><p>“Jaskier, just make it quick.”</p><p>“Would you sit down, please?” Jaskier tried not to frown, but he felt nervous. “I genuinely just want to talk, Geralt. I don’t think we’ve had a real conversation in over a month.”</p><p>Geralt sighed and reluctantly took his place on the couch. Jaskier eased beside him, put a hand on his arm.</p><p>“Tell me,” Jaskier began, softly. “How are you doing?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Geralt said. “Head’s always buzzing. I can’t think. What do you want to talk about?”</p><p>“This is what I want to talk about,” Jaskier said. “While you weren’t always forthcoming, I could usually count on you to be upfront with me. Now, it seems impossible to get anything out of you.”</p><p>“I could go to jail, Jaskier,” Geralt said. “I lie awake at night, wondering what would happen to Ciri if I did.”</p><p>“Roach won’t let that happen,” Jaskier said. “And nor will I, for that matter. I don’t care how much it--”</p><p>“Stop saying that.”</p><p>“Alright. Well, you’re highly stressed, that’s a given,” Jaskier said. “And you’ve been a bit more,” he paused, carefully considering the right phrasing, “vocal with some of your emotions, lately. Am I reading this wrong?”</p><p>“No.” Geralt ran a hand through his flaxen locks, the early signs of frustration showing. “I know I keep losing my temper. I shouldn’t do that but it keeps happening. I’m trying to stop it.”</p><p>“Do you think it’s caused by stress, or that chip?” Jaskier ventured, hopeful. “Perhaps both?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“I’m concerned, darling. Roach tells me your registration has been processed. Perhaps we can look into getting rid of the chip?”</p><p>“I need this thing out of me. I can feel it crawling in my brain. It’s killing me, Jaskier.”</p><p>“Well,” Jaskier said, a soothing hand across Geralt’s chest, “on the bright side, you do have some good days. I mean, it’s just speculation that it’s the chip at this point, right?”</p><p>“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Golden eyes landed on him. “Why are you asking me all these questions? Your cop friends put you up to this?”</p><p>“What?” Jaskier frowned, smacked him upside the head. “<em>No</em>.”</p><p>“You know, I’ve been asking myself why you keep coming around after all this.”</p><p>“Geralt! How many more ways are there left to prove that I love you? Rather than accepting that, you’re being paranoid, and angry, blaming me for the fucking sun shining in the sky. It’s not <em>you</em>, Geralt.”</p><p>Geralt’s face closed off, as though he steeled himself. “Just say what you have to say, Jaskier.”</p><p>“Fine.” Jaskier inhaled deeply, seeing no other way around it. “Ever since I found out that you’re a mutant, it’s like I’m not with you. I feel like I’m with someone else.”</p><p>Geralt stared at him searchingly, his frown deep and his gaze somewhere between puzzled and devastated.</p><p>“Before I knew,” Jaskier continued, “when we started dating, when we spent the holidays together and went to bed together, you were with me, and I was with you. I knew who you were, who I fell in love with. Yet now it’s like you’re just a mutant, deliberately pushing me away.”</p><p>“I am a mutant, Jaskier,” Geralt said. “This is who I am.”</p><p>“No,” Jaskier shook his head. “No, you aren’t. This is not who you are, Geralt. You may have been genetically altered against your will, but this is not who you are.”</p><p>“What the fuck are you saying? Are you hearing yourself?”</p><p>“Yes, I am. Geralt, you’re the man who falls over himself when ice-skating. You’re the dad who chaperoned a school field trip, running on no sleep. You’re the guy who’ll work extra shifts during the holidays to pay the bills, to do right by his daughter, to put food on the table and shelter her. You’re the guardian doing right by Cirillla.”</p><p>“Jaskier, I,” Geralt said, pointing viciously, “am a mutant, but you have your head so far up your ass, you don’t want to see it. You just want to close your eyes and ignore that part of me.”</p><p>“That’s not what I’m doing,” Jaskier insisted. “I know these experiments you told me of Eskel and Lambert were done to you, too. I’ve seen what you can do. But this cannot be who you are.”</p><p>“Well, it is,” Geralt said. “Take it or leave it, but this is me, and my Ciri. We’re both mutants, and if you want to hate us, like the rest of those people out there, join the fucking line. But you can’t ignore this just because you get triggered when I get pissed off.”</p><p>Jaskier didn’t know what to make of such a blow, or how else to put it for Geralt, and he could not accept what he was hearing, not in full. The face was Geralt’s and the voice was his, but the words were all wrong.</p><p>“Are you sure this is who you are?” Jaskier asked, carefully.</p><p>“Yes. I am.”</p><p>“Then,” Jaskier sighed, shoulders sagging, “you’re not the man I want.” He felt cold again, and rubbed his arms, feeling disconcerted. “Geralt, I’ve already had my share of all this, hurling curses, quick temper, being blamed for everything. I’ve had it all my life and I don’t want it ever again.”</p><p>He took to his feet, processing the words he’d just uttered.</p><p>“Shit," he said to himself, "I’ve fucked it up, haven’t I?” Jaskier glanced at Geralt. “But I can’t help myself. I’m sorry, Geralt.”</p><p>Jaskier grabbed his keys, leaving this time of his own accord.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>GERALT</b>
</p><p>There was a preliminary hearing in early June, to determine whether the case would go to trial. Geralt only had a couple of nice shirts, a decent pair of slacks. Roach brought him a nice tie, and off they went.</p><p>He felt on edge the entire time, and was unsurprised when his case was picked up. Roach said she had expected this, but she remained confident she could win. She’d done it before in Portsmouth and she bid Geralt to trust her. He was luckier, he knew, than most mutants.</p><p>At home, Ciri never left the house. It was an achievement if she left her room and she never wanted to talk to Geralt. Her silence wounded him, the rift between them widening each time they sat through silent meals—on the days he managed to get her to even eat.</p><p>After the night Jaskier left, seemingly for good, if his lack of calls and texts was any indication, Ciri shut Geralt out completely. Whenever he tried to coax her into talking, if he was lucky, she condemned him for driving away one of the few people who still cared about them. Otherwise, she slammed her door in his face and turned up her music.</p><p>He couldn’t get those accusations out of his head, but it was not as bad as the words Jaskier had left him with. Words that, no matter which way he turned them over, did not for whatever reason sit well with him.</p><p>Anxiety spiked in Geralt, his mood worsening. The days grew longer, punctuated by his frequent, accidental shattering of dishes — as if his big, stupid hands were unwilling to steady — and the perpetual sense of being nothing short of a failure, a caricature of a father.</p><p>The harrowing arrest, before Roach came, played like a recurring nightmare in his mind. ‘Lowly, gutter mutant’, his captors had jeered, after ripping Ciri away from him, taunting him with threats to put him away for life, as the rest of his kind.</p><p>The chip was meant to be administered under sedation, but they’d made a ‘special exception’ for Geralt, injecting him with his eyes open, the pain splitting his spine in two and cracking open his skull.</p><p>Geralt felt as though his life spiraled out of control while he watched, powerless to act against the tide. Most days, he couldn’t hear his thoughts.</p><p>Sunny mid-June sparked in the city, only two weeks since the last he’d seen of Jaskier, and Geralt couldn’t handle the departure anymore, not the unexpected way it came to pass. Jaskier had said his part, and it was Geralt’s turn.</p><p>He left the apartment late one afternoon, warning Ciri through her shut door, and commuted to the South End. It was just his luck someone was entering Jaskier’s building when he arrived.</p><p>His thumb assaulted the buzzer upstairs, ringing insistently and stepping away, clenching and releasing his fists. Jaskier opened up, looking surprised.</p><p>“Geralt?” he spoke tentatively. “Are you alright?”</p><p>Jaskier smelled cool and clean, and he was dressed comfortably. Geralt found himself trying to sniff out another presence, expecting Jaskier to have already moved on, but it seemed there was no one.</p><p>“I have something to say,” Geralt declared roughly.</p><p>“Why don’t you come inside?” Jaskier suggested.</p><p>“No, this won’t take long.” Geralt raised his gaze from assessing Jaskier’s tentative stance, and met his eye. “I just need to ask you why.”</p><p>“Why what?”</p><p>“Why did you wait so long,” Geralt said, heaving a shaky breath, “until after you knew I was a mutant, to break up with me?”</p><p>Jaskier cast Geralt a blank look. “I didn’t break up with you.”</p><p>“Yes, you did,” Geralt growled, vaguely aware of his voice carrying, and of the way Jaskier jumped a little and took a step back. “You said you don’t want me — this relationship — because I’m a mutant. I need to know why you waited, Jaskier.”</p><p>His palms grew slick with sweat, so Geralt clenched them, then smoothed them on his jeans. The noise in his head, like crisp static, was coming back after cruelly remaining silent the entire commute. Geralt ignored it, in favor of forcing out his words.</p><p>“You could have left the day after the arrests. You could have said something. When we first met, during my break at work,” Geralt said shakily, “you should have told me you were out of my league, Jaskier. I wasn’t good enough for you, but still, you waited until you knew who I was to...”</p><p>“Woah, hang on,” Jaskier raised a hand to cut him off. “You’re taking things out of context here. I didn’t know you were a mutant for months while we were together.”</p><p>“And now that you know, you don’t want me.”</p><p>“That couldn’t be further from the truth, and it is not what I said.”</p><p>“Yes, it is,” Geralt snapped, petulantly.</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier’s tone softened. Geralt could feel him trying to capture his wandering eye. “Please come inside and let’s talk about this.”</p><p>“I don’t want to come inside.”</p><p>Geralt ran a hand over his head, walked away, and returned. He had to control himself, he knew, despite how damn near impossible it felt, given the electric whirr, increasingly vibrating through his skull and bones.</p><p>“It’s fine,” he sighed, hands lifting resignedly. “I’ll go. I know I’m causing a scene.”</p><p>“Darling,” Jaskier tried, again in that delicate tone, as if Geralt was a child, “it makes no sense talking out here like this. Come inside, please.”</p><p>“Just fucking tell me why.”</p><p>Jaskier inhaled patiently, squeezed his eyes shut, and came a few steps out of his apartment. “Alright, look, there is no ‘why’ involved. I didn’t break up with you. I certainly did not walk away that night because you’re a mutant, either.”</p><p>“Don’t start messing with my head.”</p><p>“I’m not,” Jaskier said sharply, “though I am worried you’re not properly grasping what I’m saying.”</p><p>Geralt heard, but didn’t process that, saying, “I told you about my brothers. You saw who I am, and I told you to leave. I gave you room to go, every day, I turned my back. Why didn’t you tell me sooner you can’t love me for who I am?”</p><p>“That’s exactly my point,” Jaskier said, “and you’re not understanding it. I do love you, Geralt, for exactly who you are. However, I believe there is a disconnect, between who you think you are, and who you actually are. Geralt, your genetics, your <em>race</em>, and these things you are capable of, do not have to paint the full picture of who you are. Not like your actions, your character, and the choices you make, would do. I’m saying you are not simply a mutant, but so much more.”</p><p>The thin band which held Geralt together snapped, painfully, and he displayed Jaskier a grotesque snarl.</p><p>“You think you know me so fucking well,” Geralt said, “but you have no idea what it’s like to be put down, hated for something you never had a say in choosing. You don’t know the things I’ve been through, and seen.”</p><p>“No,” Jaskier agreed, “I don’t.”</p><p>“Then, stop telling me who I am!”</p><p>A neighbor’s door opened, a concerned head peeking just down the hall. Geralt was being too loud. But he couldn’t maintain a level tone, when he could barely hear himself think, and it felt like any moment his head would implode.</p><p>Jaskier stiffened visibly, the look on his face odd. Geralt felt his skin tighten around his eyes, vision suddenly crisper than ever, and he knew then his gaze was pooling black, spidery veins growing. His mutation was triggering, perhaps to overcome the imbalance, and the odd look on Jaskier was human fear of mutant power.</p><p>Geralt turned away, endeavoring to retract his gaze back to normal. “Sorry,” he said, quietly to Jaskier. “I’m gonna go.”</p><p>Jaskier hastened after him and called his name. Geralt didn’t answer as he dashed away, neighbors asking if they should call security. Geralt heard Jaskier tell them it was alright, and the brief distraction allowed his exit from the building.</p><p>His phone rang five minutes later. Geralt ignored it. After the next four times it rang, he turned it off.</p><p>Jaskier texted later on, asking Geralt to call him back. Telling him he loved him. Geralt saw the messages the next morning, though it wasn’t for lack of sleep. The calls kept coming throughout the next day, at frequent intervals. If it wasn’t to stay in contact with Roach and Ciri, he would have given in to the urge to chuck the damn thing.</p><p>Music blasted from Ciri’s room at one point during the day, giving Geralt a fresh, splitting headache. His limbs felt stiff with tension. Somehow, it was too much this time, and he marched over to tell her to turn that down before he went deaf.</p><p>Geralt found her crying her eyes out. The request froze, unspoken, on his tongue, falling away entirely as he waded through the soundscape and went for his kid. He held Ciri in his arms, anxious at how much thinner she’d grown. She’d always been small, but now she was like a bird, waifish and fragile.</p><p>“It’s going to be okay,” he told Ciri, once the music was turned down. Her eyes were red, but she wasn’t spurning him like before. “From now on, we’re going to try and make it outside every day. We need exercise and fresh air. And I’m going to train you on how to control your powers.”</p><p>“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Ciri sniffled.</p><p>Geralt cracked at the knowledge that she had cried anytime the music was turned too loudly, something he should have noticed and didn’t, blaming himself for it.</p><p>“You won’t. But this thing, I won’t let it ruin your life. Not like it did mine.”</p><p>She was reluctant, but the following day, they began a new, shaky routine. Geralt couldn’t remember the last time he’d exercised but he was sturdy and Ciri seemed to benefit from the time outside.</p><p>Her appetite returned slowly, and she managed to get more of her work done faster. Her suspension period was over but Ciri had told him she didn’t want to go back to school. Since Jaskier had found a way for her to turn in her exams online, he couldn’t deny her this small mercy.</p><p>“Jaskier texts me every day, you know,” Ciri told him once, “just to make sure I got my assignments, and he helps when I have questions. My teachers don’t always email me back. I know you guys are having problems, but he won’t talk about it.”</p><p>Geralt stared at her in silence, not knowing what to say to that.</p><p>“I don’t know what’s happening, but you have to fix this, Geralt.”</p><p>“I can’t.”</p><p>“Can’t or won’t?” Ciri posed wisely.</p><p>Geralt found the distinction was more important than he’d expected.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>The end of June billowed hot and sunny. It was the last day of school. Ciri had turned in her work a week early and Geralt was relieved when it looked like she would pass the freshman year.</p><p>They jogged that morning and trained, the progress on controlling her chaotic powers painfully slow. Thankfully, they were eating together again at home, grocery shopping together, and not always in silence. She grounded him, without knowing it, as Geralt found he could ignore the constant backdrop of static when he focused on his daughter, with whom he could finally spend more time in spite of their unfavorable situation.</p><p>There was only one matter Geralt was avoiding. He picked up his phone, out of the blue, when he felt the most lucid, and made a call. Jaskier picked up at the first ring.</p><p>“Geralt?” he said quickly. “Hi Geralt.”</p><p>“Hi Jaskier!”</p><p>“How are you? Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yes. Doing great. Court date is settled, Roach is optimistic, and Ciri’s doing great.” Geralt paused, his calm, almost cheerful demeanor wavering. “Everything is fine. I just need to find a job real soon. Can’t keep going on like this.”</p><p>“Geralt, can you meet me, please?” Jaskier said, like he hadn’t really been listening. “I really need to see you.”</p><p>Geralt hesitated. Jaskier didn’t sound much like himself, either. They made a strange masquerade, between the two of them.</p><p>“Sure,” he said, after a minute. “But everything is fine. I know we’re broken up but I don’t blame you for anything.”</p><p>“Please,” Jaskier said, urgently, “I have to talk to you. It’s been too long and I don’t like where we left things. Just tell me where to go. I’ll meet you anywhere.”</p><p>In response, Geralt gave out some random cafe in Chinatown, and Jaskier said he would meet him there in a few hours. Geralt felt unsure about this, about even wanting to meet.</p><p>He left without warning Ciri, and found himself arriving early and looking inside. Jaskier was sitting at a counter, fidgeting and checking his phone constantly.</p><p>After watching him for a while, Geralt entered and went to sit beside him.</p><p>“Hey!” Geralt said, sounding and feeling entirely unlike himself.</p><p>“Hi,” Jaskier gave a tentative laugh, and gazed with worry at him. “How are you?”</p><p>“Fine. Good. You?”</p><p>Jaskier made no immediate reply. He genuinely looked perturbed for a good moment, and Geralt felt the wave of their last encounter unmoor him again.</p><p>“Thank you for meeting me,” Jaskier said.</p><p>He inched closer in his seat and put his phone nervously away. Geralt saw Jaskier’s hands were shaking.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking, Geralt,” Jaskier began, slowly.</p><p>“Hmm, back at that again, huh?”</p><p>“Yes, well,” Jaskier gave a weak, nervous laugh, “just hear me out for one second. I’ve been thinking about everything, since March and the incident, and all that followed. I think, when I told you being a mutant is not who you are, I struck a raw nerve.”</p><p>Geralt stared robotically at Jaskier, unblinking and strangely enraptured. He murmured, “What are you, Jaskier? A music teacher, or a shrink?”</p><p>“Darling,” Jaskier said, reaching for his arm. Geralt immediately withdrew it, as though recoiling from an open flame. “I didn’t realize how you would take what I was saying, until you came to my place asking me why. Before, I only meant to address your recent temper, to be sure, but… my words disturbed you. I saw that, later, clearly. It was the wrong time, and pisspoor phrasing, and I am so sorry, Geralt.”</p><p>Geralt grinned, without mirth. “You got it all worked out, huh?”</p><p>“I wish,” Jaskier said, more insistently and yet, more unsteadily, “I could take back those things I said.”</p><p>“So take them back.”</p><p>“Listen to me.” Jaskier took Geralt’s hands and held on tightly. “I want us to go back to the way things were. I’ll move past the temper, I know you to be a good man. I won’t ask you to tell me who you are. I want to learn about you, the life you’ve led, about being a mutant. I want you, all of you.”</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt said chidingly. “The Geralt you want is a human that doesn’t exist. You don’t want the mutant thug.”</p><p>“Yes, I do, so help me God.”</p><p>Geralt rose abruptly, breaking the link of their hands, feeling an ill wave of temper creep at the back of his throat. He willed it down with everything in him and decided it was best he leave. Jaskier took hold of his arm to stop him.</p><p>“Let me go,” Geralt said, speaking quietly. “I’m a loose canon around you lately, and I can’t cause a scene.”</p><p>“No.” Jaskier’s voice broke and, when he came round to face Geralt, his eyes were brighter than the stars in the sky.</p><p>Geralt shifted, but Jaskier wouldn’t budge. He pried off Jaskier’s fingers to free himself, only for arms to tightly encircle his back.</p><p>“I can’t lose you, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. “Not you, too.”</p><p>“Let go, Jaskier. I don’t want to hurt you.”</p><p>They wrestled visibly, turning heads in the cafe when a sob escaped Jaskier, but neither one seemed to care.</p><p>“Please, no,” Jaskier said, his face red with strain.</p><p>Geralt disentangled from sheer superior strength and left.</p><p>The city was illuminated with lanterns. Geralt could hear Jaskier striving to contain himself, wiping his face and taking off after him. Geralt walked faster, trying to lose Jaskier, but the man continued meandering in the right direction, following him until they reached a dead end of an alley.</p><p>Geralt stood in the shadows when Jaskier came. He almost got away undetected when Jaskier returned and, upon closer inspection, found his outline.</p><p>“I will do anything,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“I’m no good for you,” Geralt answered.</p><p>“You’re breaking my heart…” Their eyes met and Jaskier went on to say, “You promised you wouldn’t turn your back on me.”</p><p>Geralt made no reply, so Jaskier approached. In his line of sight, Jaskier lowered himself to both knees before Geralt, his final plea. The music teacher gazed up at him, tears running in rivulets down his cheeks.</p><p>A painful tightness found his chest, a roaring filling his ears as he took his final glance at Jaskier. In the face of such devotion, Geralt felt as though he was drowning.</p><p>“You deserve better,” Geralt said. “Goodbye, Jaskier.”</p><p>Geralt walked away, Jaskier’s wracking sobs echoing in his wake.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>The night was hot. More than once, some faint part of Geralt screamed at him to go back to Jaskier, but his feet carried him further away. He was vaguely aware of where he went, his head too much of a mess to take a faster route home, his heart pooling with the self-loathing which, in the face of Jaskier’s purity, had won.</p><p>There were people following him. Not that he had any money to begin with, but Geralt couldn’t afford to get mugged, given his approaching court dates. He had to remain trouble free, so he tried to lose his tail.</p><p>The stalkers did not relent, waiting until a particular street with no light to manifest in his way. They must not have known that he could see in the dark. Perhaps they could, too.</p><p>“You don’t wanna mess with me,” Geralt told what looked like a man and a woman.</p><p>“We just want to talk.” The woman spoke first. “Are you Geralt Rivia?”</p><p>He frowned, clenched his fists, and narrowed his eyes. The man beside her was growing tense. Geralt turned and walked away from them. He didn’t have time for this shit.</p><p>Ciri was at home, alone, and he was starting to realize how bad of an idea that was. The two strangers came after him. The man physically tried to make Geralt halt, and it turned into Geralt tossing him over his shoulder. He landed with a painful crack, so the woman stepped in.</p><p>It wasn’t every day Geralt engaged in hand-to-hand combat. He was strong, but rusty, and the woman moved in a precise way he hadn’t encountered in decades. He tripped her, and dealt her partner a blow to the gut, thinking it’d buy him enough time to escape.</p><p>All at once, the distinct hiss of a blade being drawn sliced the air.</p><p>“The fuck?” Claws. Geralt saw they’d ripped from the assailant’s knuckles. They smelled like no commercial alloy.</p><p>Mutants, Geralt realized, as he was thrust into a knife fight. He changed strategy but inevitably, part of his face was cut down.</p><p>Blood ran into his eye and Geralt wheeled back, cursing loudly.</p><p>“Look, we’re not here to fight,” the woman tried again.</p><p>“No shit,” Geralt snarled, going for them again.</p><p>They collided until a storm brewed unexpectedly, and Geralt was nearly hit by a toppling streetlight. He realized at that point, two mutants against one weren’t the best odds.</p><p>“What do you want with me?” Geralt said, through bared teeth.</p><p>White hair alike his own, and milky eyes slowly regaining their irises fixed him sternly.</p><p>“Not you,” the woman said. “Your daughter.”</p><p>Looking warily between them, Geralt did not know whether to feel dread or anger.</p><p>“Come with us, pal,” the feral man said. “We can explain.”</p><p>“No.” They could kick his ass if they wanted, but he was done here. Geralt had to get home to Ciri. He walked away, calling out, “Leave us alone.”</p><p>“She’s going to have to learn to control her gift, Geralt,” the woman said, sounding close. “We saw her on the news and have been watching you two. She’s capable of much more than you know.”</p><p>Geralt paused. “Look, I can guess who you people are. And I don’t care. Ciri is not getting involved. She’s just a kid.”</p><p>“My name is Storm,” the woman said, making Geralt stop again, mid-stride, his back to them. “This is Logan. And I think you’re going to want to hear what we have to say.”</p><p>Geralt didn’t want to know it, hear it, or to be a part of it. He couldn’t think, with leaving Jaskier, with the weeping cut on his face from those adamantium claws.</p><p>“No thanks. Stay away from us.”</p><p>He’d walked for a good while when he realized, much later on, that they’d left him in  peace, and that the inclement weather earlier was gone as soon as it had come. Storm. At the very least, one thing made sense.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>By the time he arrived home the cut on his face was starting to heal. Perks of being a mutant, though the dried blood was annoying.</p><p>Geralt found the door open and he froze. Someone had been here, he could tell by the strange scent. And he couldn’t quite locate Ciri’s. His stomach dropped and he entered carefully, finding the home in disarray.</p><p>“Ciri?” Geralt called out, fear squeezing him at the throat. He never should have left. “No, no… fuck. CIRI?”</p><p>Geralt went to her room and his, finding both empty, and he ran to the kitchen and back, cursing loudly. He tried to focus and used his ears, his nose, anything that could help him locate her.</p><p>At length, he picked something up—quiet, secret breathing. It wasn’t coming from her room but it seemed someone was still in the house. Geralt went to the bathroom and found it locked from within.</p><p>The heartbeat was quick and human, and he could recognize its rhythm in his sleep.</p><p>“Ciri,” he knocked, “you in there?”</p><p>There was another rancid smell: terror.</p><p>“Ciri, open the door kiddo, or I’m going to have to break it.”</p><p>There was no answer. Geralt heard her crawl away, further from the door, until she could go nowhere else. He sighed. The leasing office was going to make him pay for the damage but he was left no choice.</p><p>“Step back, alright? I’m coming in.”</p><p>Geralt gripped the handle and shouldered into the door. It came clean off the hinges and he startled as soon as he saw Ciri.</p><p>She stood tersely in the tub, holding a knife out to him, and she was petrified.</p><p>“Hey, hey, it’s me.” Geralt put the door aside and raised his hands in surrender, his tone going gentle. “It’s dad, alright? What happened?”</p><p>“What did you give me,” Cirilla said viciously, waving the knife in his face, “for Christmas?”</p><p>“What? Sweetie—”</p><p>“<em>What did you give me</em>?” she insisted, looking like she might cut him down if he got the answer wrong.</p><p>Geralt went through the mental inventory and quickly said, “My medallion, the wolf Vesemir forged. You’re wearing it around your neck.”</p><p>Ciri’s shoulders sagged with relief. Geralt approached, carefully prying the kitchen knife from her hand, ignoring the trace of blood on it.</p><p>“I was so scared,” Ciri breathed, quickly shifting into his arms. “She came and pretended to be you. She tried to take me away, and I had to scream.”</p><p>“Who came?” Geralt frowned. “Are you hurt?”</p><p>Ciri shook her head. “A mutant. I thought it was you. I didn’t know you’d left, said you forgot your keys. Looked and talked like you. But it was weird, she was saying stuff you’d never say, about fighting back. To kill humans. To join Mag—”</p><p>“Magneto.” Geralt ground his teeth, his arms around Ciri tightening. He never should have left. “It’s okay, kiddo. I’m here now. Hey, did you kick her ass?”</p><p>Ciri gave a meek nod.</p><p>“Attagirl,” Geralt said. “Proud of you.”</p><p>“I knew it wasn’t you after a while. She turned into her blue skin when I injured her, and ran away. I’m sorry about the mess in the house.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about that.” Geralt was beyond relieved. “I won’t leave you again, Cirilla. You hear me?”</p><p>She nodded, and then saw him for the first time. “You’re bleeding.”</p><p>“It’s nothing,” Geralt assured her. “It’ll scar over by tomorrow.”</p><p>“Geralt?” Ciri said, while he tried to figure out what to do with the door. “Who is Magneto?”</p><p>Geralt shook his head. “You don’t wanna know, kiddo. Trust me.”</p><p>They were both still on edge. Geralt secured the front door and reassured Ciri, until she felt ready to attempt sleep—in Geralt’s room, she insisted. He waited until her breathing deepened to return to the bathroom, having made a decision, after the night’s events.</p><p>The knife was still there. Carefully, Geralt propped the broken door to block him from view, and seized it.</p><p>Geralt pressed the sharp tip to his nape, and a hot trickle of blood ensued as he carved his way inside. Pain radiated through him unbearably, so he ground his teeth, shoving deeper, until there was a distinct shock along his spine.</p><p>He set the knife aside, dug a shaky finger in the bloody gash, and searched through the gruesome pain of screaming nerves, until he located the tracking chip.</p><p>Geralt shoved it out with a gasp, shaking violently. He squashed it easily between thick fingers, and finally, the blinking lights on the device died. Blood ran down his back, staining the bathroom sink, and the tiles.</p><p>But at last, Geralt could breathe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belong</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belong</a>
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    <p>
  <b>CIRILLA</b>
</p><p>Ciri decided to delete her social media accounts for good. The first time she had tried, haunted by pictures of Adon’s memorial and videos of her abilities going viral, she lasted about one to two days before redownloading. </p><p>She found she had no interest in chatting online. Writing wasn’t coming to her either, and she needed a way to fill the seemingly endless hours, on the days she couldn’t bring herself to leave her room. </p><p>A few days after the apartment was broken into, she checked Instagram to see that Cahir was out of the hospital. That, for her, was the last straw.</p><p>It seemed cruel that he should be perfectly fine after a few months, where her Adon did not make it. Cahir made a video, with Fringilla, ‘honoring’ Adon’s death, and saying if he ever saw Ciri again she was done for. </p><p>The hashtag he plastered in bold scared her most. #Magneto’sArmy. Ciri shuddered, deleted her account, any other apps with ties to her high school, and turned off her phone.</p><p>Geralt was in the hallway when she emerged, doing some fixing with a power drill and other tools. She knew she could just look it up on the internet, but it was always hard to differentiate lies from the truth online.</p><p>“Who is he?” she asked Geralt, not for the first time.</p><p>Geralt was putting the door back together. She would never forget the way he ripped it apart to get into the bathroom, like it was a sheet of paper in a notebook. </p><p>“Who’s who, sweetie?” he replied, without looking up.</p><p>“Magneto.” Ciri crossed her arms and leveled him seriously. “I know you know that name and just won’t tell me.”</p><p>Geralt continued working in silence. The tools made noise for a few more minutes, and then, he tested the door. It opened and shut smoothly, looking good as new.</p><p>“Did you work with him before,” she tried instead, “when you used to hunt?”</p><p>“No,” Geralt said. “But… he’s been around a while. Like me.”</p><p>Ciri knew Geralt’s driver’s license said he was forty-something, but she held, in the back of her mind, the vague awareness her guardian had lived perhaps twice as long as that. He may not have looked it, due to his particular brand of mutation, but Geralt was no spring chicken.</p><p>“I’m going to assume he’s one of the bad guys,” Ciri said, “considering one of them broke in and pretended to be you.”</p><p>“Don’t make assumptions. He heads a mutant group known as the Brotherhood,” Geralt answered, his face illuminated by daylight, spilling down the hall from Ciri’s room. “Their methods are extreme, pro-mutant, and anti-human.”</p><p>“I thought you said most mutants went into hiding,” Ciri pointed out.</p><p>“Only those of us who can pass as human,” Geralt admitted, uneasily, “and who would rather not choose sides.”</p><p>“Wait, how many sides are there?”</p><p>“More than one. With more than one leader.”</p><p>“And they all are anti-human?”</p><p>A frown flickered over Geralt’s brow. Ciri could see him searching for the best way to put this to her. They’d never had the conversation. </p><p>“No,” he said, “but the end goal, for mutants, is the same. Survival. Preservation. A sense of belonging in a world which continues to deny our humanity. A place in this world.”</p><p>Ciri pondered that while Geralt gathered his tools, and moved away to put them back. She followed slowly, and asked, “The people who hurt your face, are they another group?”</p><p>Geralt dusted his hands on his jeans with a nod. “X-Men, I’m guessing.”</p><p>“Are they extremists, too?”</p><p>“No. They’re more like… hmm.” Geralt rubbed his chin and arched a thoughtful brow. “You studied US History, right? Civil Rights Movement?”</p><p>Ciri nodded, reciting without even pausing to think, “Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Rosa Parks, the March on Washington, Malcolm X, the Black Panthers.”</p><p>“Good,” Geralt said. “They’re more like that, led by a man named Charles Xavier. They try to foster peaceful human-mutant relations, among other things, but I also think dealing with Magneto’s chaotic henchmen is part of the job. His real name is  Erik Lehnsherr. He used to, a long time ago, work alongside Charles Xavier, but that didn’t work out so well after a while.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Difference in ideology,” Geralt said, stiffly, like he knew more than he was willing to let on. </p><p>“Well, it still sounds like one group is reasonably good, while the other isn’t so much,” Ciri concluded. “Do you support any of them?”</p><p>“It’s complicated, Ciri,” Geralt sighed. “You have to understand I was initially built in a lab, to be a weapon. I’ve made mistakes. Spent even longer trying to right them, by fighting not just for mutants, but for all of us who are made to feel unwelcome. I could get behind folks like Martin and Malcolm, but never a faction like Magneto’s Brotherhood of Mutants. Not again. And then, I made the decision to pass as human.”</p><p>Ciri sat down, somewhat overloaded with information. She was vaguely aware of Geralt moving around their place, and the next time they were in the same room, she asked, “So, what did those people want from you the other day, that they had to cut your face?”</p><p>“You.” Geralt fixed her with a terse look. “I think that’s why the shapeshifter came, too.”</p><p>“What do they want with me?” Ciri said, backing away.</p><p>“Ciri. It’s going to be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.”</p><p>“Do they know what I can do? They must have seen it on the news…”</p><p>“Hey,” Geralt called sternly, going to her. “Look at me. Nothing bad is going to happen to you again. Not on my watch. You got it?”</p><p>She nodded, wanting to believe him, but the knowledge there were grown mutants, some of them extremists, after her was disturbing. Geralt tried to give her a hug but all Ciri could do was stand there. </p><p>Late in the afternoon, they went for their daily jog down the StonyBrook trail and traversed toward a clearing where Geralt tried to get her to control her powers. </p><p>It was so chaotic, it had taken Ciri weeks to even try and figure out what it felt like to have the ability to destroy, bubbling inside her. Mostly, Geralt made her meditate, and try to focus on the energy. </p><p>She could make things levitate and hurl them around, if she tried really hard and concentrated very much. But some days, like today, when she had a lot on her mind despite the exercise and fresh air, it was no use.</p><p>“Why don’t we break for today?” Geralt suggested, after a frustrating hour.</p><p>Ciri wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and rose from her position in the grassy clearing.</p><p>“Sorry,” she said, “today’s just not my day. Cahir is out of the hospital. I don’t know how he can be fine when Adon…” </p><p>Ciri trailed off. It still hurt to say his name and to think about him. She had wanted to visit his grave, and considered asking Geralt or Jaskier to take her, but it was too much for her, after everything.</p><p>“Ciri, I think the kid might be a mutant,” Geralt said soberly. “I’ve never heard of somebody getting hit by two cars like that and walking free. Either that, or they did something shady to him in that hospital.”</p><p>“I don’t want to think about it.” She ran her fingers across her nape, the perpetual scabbing of the tracking chip still there. “I don’t want to think about that high school, or any of those people. I hate them.”</p><p>Geralt put his arm around her. “My hearing is in a week.”</p><p>“Already?” Ciri looked up at him. </p><p>“Roach says the date was moved up. I don’t know how it’ll go but… if anything, you know you can stay with her right?” Geralt kept his attention on the path ahead. “I was hoping, since last year when we did the Harbor Islands, that I could save up enough to take you somewhere nice this summer.”</p><p>“I don’t mind, Geralt. I want to stay home with you, as much as possible.” She considered and then added, “Honestly, I think I want to be home-schooled.”</p><p>Geralt frowned, but he said nothing as he let her explain how it all felt like it was way too much. The thought of going back to that school alone crippled her with anxiety, and she dreaded each passing day that brought summer closer to its end.</p><p>“Jaskier is probably the only person I wouldn’t mind seeing again,” she found herself saying.</p><p>Ciri bit her lip, immediately regretting her words when she saw the stony expression Geralt assumed. They’d walked all the way back home and she began to formulate an apology, when her guardian stopped suddenly, his hold on her shoulders tightening.</p><p>“Ciri,” Geralt murmured. “Stay close.”</p><p>Ciri frowned when she saw two people waiting on their doorstep. The man seemed to be around Geralt’s age and build, bearded without an interconnecting mustache, a cigar caught between his teeth. </p><p>She thought the woman was a goddess, with her crisp white hair, rich, swarthy complexion, and a proud, fine face. Whoever she was, Ciri decided she was the epitome of excellence, for she radiated a calm elegance that would not be ignored.</p><p>“Who are they?” she asked Geralt.</p><p>“Assholes who gave me this,” he gestured at the scar on his face. His voice rose when he said, “You two need to leave.”</p><p>“We just want to talk to Cirilla,” the woman said. She felt different to the shapeshifter. Her energy was warmer. Ciri felt like she could trust her and her heart skipped a beat, hearing her name come from that mouth. Beside her, Geralt made a fist and growled.</p><p>“I said--” he began.</p><p>“No, Geralt,” Ciri cut him off. “Let’s hear them out.” </p><p>She looked between the three of them and, seeing as none of them moved, fetched her key, and unlocked the door. She shared a smile with the woman, ignoring Geralt and the other man, leveling each other with grunts, and hoped her gut was right about this one.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters sounded way too good to be true.<p>Ciri stared into Storm’s pretty eyes and listened to her soothing voice, as she was told about the academy, the kind of students from all over who attended classes there, some of them boarders if they had nowhere to go during the summer; a place where young mutants were nurtured and were among themselves, learning what they would if they were in a general school, and learning to use their abilities, learning about the history of mutants and their place in this world. </p><p>It sounded like a fantasy and Ciri was convinced there had to be a catch. Geralt was the one to voice it.</p><p>“I don’t want Ciri to fight,” he said bitingly. “She’s too young to make that kind of decision right now.”</p><p>Ciri looked at him, from where he glowered at the other man, Logan. She didn’t want to fight, either. </p><p>But if she could learn to control her abilities, her life might be a lot easier. She could learn to make them less volatile. And if she got in trouble, she could learn to defend herself.</p><p>“We are not a military school,” Storm said. “Our mission is not to build soldiers but to educate the next generation of mutants.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” Geralt said. “Look, she’s not going, so you’re just wasting your time.”</p><p>Ciri crossed her arms, surprised by his sudden dismissal. She hadn’t realized he would make a decision so quickly.</p><p>“Choice is yours,” Logan said, “but you’re doing the kid a disservice by letting this go on. If not us, others will come.” He sniffed, much like Geralt, his nose long and straight, and frowned. “Seems like they already have.” </p><p>He and Storm shared a look. “Mystique,” Logan said.</p><p>“Is she with Magneto?” Ciri said quietly.</p><p>All eyes turned to her and Storm nodded. </p><p>“Listen, Cirilla,” she said, “everything I’ve just told you is true, but you won’t believe me unless you see it for yourself. We want you to come and visit us at the X Mansion. Meet Professor Xavier. We won’t force you. But someone as capable as you should know there is more the world can offer you.”</p><p>Ciri looked at Geralt. “What about the chip?” she asked. “They put one in me when I got arrested.”</p><p>“We at the X Mansion have the technology to remove that chip, without any pain,” Storm confided. “We can register you legally in the state, if needed, as a member of our school. We’ve been doing it the last ten years.”</p><p>“We don’t have a lot of money,” Ciri said, figuring she might as well voice all her concerns, even though Geralt was looking more and more mad. “Even if we can find a way for me to visit… It sounds really expensive. I mean, boarding school? I don’t know.”</p><p>“It’s not every day we recruit students in person,” Storm said. “Don’t worry about that just yet. We’ll get going, but please remember, we are never far. The world is changing Cirilla. Don’t you want to be a part of that?”</p><p>If she was being honest, Ciri wanted to be a part of whatever Storm was a part of. It gave her much to think about long after they left. </p><p>Geralt brooded in silence the rest of that evening. Ciri looked into the academy online. They had a website but some of the information was limited. She had expected that much, but she was growing more curious with each passing moment.</p><p>That night, she dreamed of what happened to Adon, and she heard a voice reach out to her, talking to her, urging her to remember, to come clean. She thought it was Storm at first, but it was different, more soothing, if that was possible. </p><p>When she woke up, Ciri had a feeling it was a mutant trying to get in contact with her somehow. Maybe there were telepaths at the X Mansion.</p><p>She went to Geralt. He was on the phone with Roach, talking about court things. Ciri waited until he was done and looked at him sadly.</p><p>“At the party,” she began quietly, “after you left, everything was going fine. Adon, some  of his friends, and I were just hanging out. Listening to music, playing games. It was fun until Cahir came.” </p><p>Ciri realized she was remembering everything clearly now and she was horrified. </p><p>“He and Fringilla, they brought alcohol. Adon didn’t seem to mind but I tried telling him it wasn’t a good idea. I drank some… I didn’t like the taste. Cahir wanted to play a game. Stupid game, throwing knives. Put an apple over someone’s head and throw. He was showing off. I think he could guide the knives, somehow.”</p><p>She remembered Geralt suspecting mutation and realized she had never seen Cahir without a knife. </p><p>“I told Adon the game was dumb, not to do it, but he wouldn’t listen. Someone was going to get hurt, I just knew it. His turn came. I screamed at him not to do it, but,” her vision blurred, “things didn’t break right away this time. Cahir threw a knife, and I got scared and instead of hitting the target, it cut Adon. He was bleeding so much and I held him. Everything started breaking and someone called 911.”</p><p>Ciri breathed deeply. “I left, because I knew it was my fault. Cahir never missed, and he did because of me, and it took Adon’s life. Cahir came after me. He was angry. He knew what I did, and he followed me on the train. When I got out… I made those cars crash into him.”</p><p>She could no longer speak, folding into herself and sobbing. Geralt reached out and Ciri recoiled. He tried again and held her tight.</p><p>“It’s okay,” he said.</p><p>“It isn’t,” Ciri replied. “I killed Adon, Geralt. I hurt Cahir. It’s all my fault.”</p><p>“Listen to me,” Geralt said steadily, “The monsters I used to hunt... Ciri, they were mutants. I was a machine, following orders for decades, until my eyes were opened. There is no washing my hands of that, ever. What happened at that party was an accident. You got scared, and no one blames you. Don’t blame yourself, because that guilt will eat you alive if you let it. Take it from me.” </p><p>Geralt took her face in his hands. He smoothed his thumbs across her cheeks, dried her tears, and looked at her like the confession didn’t change anything, like he would continue to be her dad, always. “Don’t let it.”</p><p>She was quiet for a long time, crying tears she didn’t even know she still had left. But they would have to be her last for Adon. She had to let him go and manage her guilt. After a while, Ciri lifted her head and found Geralt’s worried eyes on her.</p><p>“I want to visit the X Mansion,” she told him clearly. “Please.”</p><p>“Ciri…”</p><p>“I have to know if the place is real.”</p><p>“Are you sure about this?”</p><p>Ciri nodded, certain. Geralt looked pained and he didn’t speak for a long time.</p><p>“I’ll talk to Roach,” he finally said. “It’ll have to be after the trial. In case… I am convicted. She can take you.”</p><p>“I don’t want you to go to jail because of what I did.”</p><p>“I know,” Geralt said, “but I stand by what I said. I won’t let anything happen to you. Where is this X Mansion, anyway?”</p><p>Ciri gave him a small, relieved smile. “Western Mass.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Auntie Roach didn’t think Cirilla should come to court with them, but Geralt was still paranoid about another run in with Mystique. So, Ciri put on a dress and attended the hearing.<p>She felt like folding into herself and dissolving with relief, when they won the case for Geralt. No death, no jail time, and though his record was slightly tainted, Roach said she could help manage it. </p><p>Ciri hugged Geralt for a long time afterwards and she wished Jaskier was there with them.</p><p>The last few times she’d texted him, his answers felt different than usual. While Geralt and Roach talked for a few minutes, she grabbed her phone to dial him and tell him the good news. Ciri thought he might want to know.</p><p>“Hello?” came his croaked, groggy reply. It was three in the afternoon.</p><p>“Hi Jaskier, it’s Ciri,” she said. “Are you okay? You don’t sound so good.”</p><p>“Eh, I’ve been worse. Everything alright?”</p><p>“I’m at Geralt’s hearing. It was long but Roach was able to win his case,” Ciri told him, “No prison. Nothing bad.”</p><p>“Thank God.” Jaskier sniffled and cleared his throat, but it didn’t seem to help. “H-How… How is he?”</p><p>“I think he’s relieved this whole thing is over.”</p><p>“Yes…”</p><p>“Are you sure you’re okay?”</p><p>“I’ve come down with a nasty bug. Nothing to worry about, though. You alright, love?”</p><p>“Yeah. There’s a school I heard about… for mutants. I think I want to go and see it.”</p><p>“Tell me if you do,” Jaskier said. “I must let you go now, darling, but I appreciate you calling.”</p><p>“No problem.”</p><p>“Kiss Roach for me. I… I miss you all.”</p><p>“I miss you, too.” </p><p>She sighed and hung up. Geralt was still distracted but Ciri was worried about him and Jaskier. She didn’t know the details but it seemed like they were done for good, and it made her sad.</p><p>The drive to the X Mansion was organized for a weekend. Ciri had to call ahead to make sure she could come, and Roach came down from Portsmouth to pick her and Geralt up.</p><p>Ciri had never been to Western Massachusetts before, so close to the Berkshires, and it was beautiful. The X Mansion was exactly as its name suggested. Ciri felt like, after almost fifteen years alive, she was coming home again for the first time.</p><p>She left Geralt as soon as she could to go on a guided tour around the place. There were students hanging out, even though it was the middle of summer, and she remembered the way Storm said some boarders who had no place to go could stay. </p><p>Never in all her life did Ciri see so much, so many mutants together, in one place. Suddenly it felt like this was the only place she belonged, and she was almost mad at Geralt for not telling her schools like these existed.</p><p>But then, Ciri felt hung up on money again. They gave her pamphlets and she stared at the financial aid, the language making her head spin and her heart ache, because she wanted to attend this school for gifted youngsters. </p><p>They spent the better part of the afternoon at the mansion. Ciri sat in some classes and talked to more people than she would remember, while Geralt and Roach were taken on something of a similar tour for parents.</p><p>When it was time to leave and she felt full of hope, she went to stand by Roach, while Geralt had a private word with the man who’d come to their house: Logan.</p><p>“Do you think he’ll say yes,” Ciri asked her aunt, “for me to come here? I know we can’t afford it.”</p><p>“Something tells me the cost of this place can be arranged, for someone like you,” Roach answered. </p><p>She smoothed a hand over Ciri’s hair, which had returned to its platinum shade since March, making her look more like Geralt. </p><p>“The choice is going to be yours, sweetheart. It will be hard for him to let you go, but when has Geralt denied you anything?”</p><p>It was then Ciri realized she’d been asking the wrong question. It wasn’t about Geralt letting her come here, but about her choosing this life, over one with him. Ciri didn’t think she could stand to leave him on his own any more than she could go back to a normal school.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>JASKIER</b>
</p><p>It took Yennefer barging into his apartment, after trying to reach him for five days, for Jaskier to pull himself somewhat together.</p><p>He’d laid his bleeding heart at Geralt’s feet, only to watch it kicked aside like a worthless stone. Every day since felt meaningless, mornings blurring into afternoons fading into evenings.</p><p>The Summer Recess was finally here, normally an exciting, much anticipated time. It became his excuse when Yennefer asked when he’d last taken a bath, when she left, and it became hard to get out of bed all over again.</p><p>Dreams chased him to exhaustion and his waking moments stretched to long and fractured silence. If it weren’t for Yen, convincing him to at least keep his phone on silent, he would have missed Cirilla’s call, as it lit up on his pillow one dark afternoon.</p><p>Jaskier wondered, while she gave him the news, whether Geralt knew she was on the phone with him, whether he cared. But Ciri’s worry heartened him. Unknowingly did she spur his decision to try, after days of darkness, and do at least one thing daily.</p><p>That day, it was just to get dressed, and the next, he managed to stand outside for a few minutes. One time, he read parts of a book. It didn’t keep his mind off Geralt, but it made him hungry enough to order something decent.</p><p>The next time Yennefer was over -- she tried to come very often -- they cleaned his apartment at her insistence, organizing everything, and keeping the windows open. Jaskier caught his reflection in the bathroom for the first time, and he startled at the gaunt, long-haired and bearded stranger staring back at him.</p><p>When he became more regimented about doing small things again, when he felt capable to make small talk with his neighbors, or force a smile when Yennefer came over, when the end of July blazed into Boston and brought the city to life with force, Jaskier, finally, at Yennefer’s behest, agreed to seek counseling.</p><p>It was time. After over thirty years, too many issues needed sorting, soothing, and healing. Twice weekly, someone Yennefer knew, covered by his insurance. Jaskier went, glad for the reason to get out, and started from the beginning.</p><p>They’d dug deep into his past over various sessions, things he never wanted to discuss now addressed, when finally, Geralt was touched on, though not the way Jaskier expected.</p><p>“This most recent breakup,” the therapist raised, “have you considered journaling your feelings on it?”</p><p>Jaskier shook his head.</p><p>“But you’re no stranger to writing.”</p><p>He stared bitterly at her, and considered for a long time before saying, “It used to be that making music… helped me process.”</p><p>“And now?”</p><p>“I don’t…” It hadn’t occurred to him, in his downward spiral. “I have no idea if I can.”</p><p>“I think it may be worth exploring, if you haven’t tried your hand at it in some time. Why don’t we add it to our list?”</p><p>Jaskier didn’t reply while she made her notes.</p><p>He went home that night and opened a drawer. The notebook Geralt had given him for Christmas, which felt like a lifetime ago now, hadn’t seen much activity. Jaskier sat on his bed, grabbed a pen, and studied a blank page, much like his mind.</p><p>Geralt’s words from that romantic evening spent together, his smile and gentle words, the way he’d looked at Jaskier, all came back with force. A drop stained the first page.</p><p>Jaskier sighed and turned it over. The moment he set the pen down on the page, the floodgates opened, and words poured out of him. They came so quickly he worried he wouldn’t get them all down, driven by memories of moments, of conversations, thoughts and gestures.</p><p>A sound startled him from his trance and Jaskier turned over, only to realize the melody was internal, resounding with the intent to carry the phrases swimming before his mind’s eye. A progression on acoustic guitar, choruses, the splash of keys.</p><p>Jaskier filled four hungry pages with urgent words, before springing from his place to fetch his guitar. It took the rest of the night to build the skeleton of one song. Jaskier stared, exhausted, at the three more waiting to see light and sound. To be sung. He picked up his phone and pressed record.</p><p>His therapist was surprised when he told her.</p><p>“How long is the song?” she asked.</p><p>“Just shy of three minutes,” Jaskier said. “I’ve only got a rough demo on my phone if… well, would you like to hear it?”</p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p>“I apologize, it’s very bare,” he found himself saying, as he scrolled through his Voice Memos, “just vocals and a guitar, but… here goes.”</p><p>Jaskier felt a bit self-conscious while she listened, but he gleaned no judgment on her face. It was difficult to listen, objectively, to himself, especially when the subject of a track felt so obvious, still weighing heavily in his broken heart.</p><p>“Very nice,” the therapist said at length, encouraging his tentative smile. “How did you feel after writing and recording it?”</p><p>“Calm,” Jaskier recalled. “It didn’t last for long, though.”</p><p>“And during?”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Jaskier said. “I become engrossed when I do these things and I can’t keep track of myself.”</p><p>“Tell me. Is it fair to assume,” she said, “this Geralt is tall, with a strong build?”</p><p>Jaskier frowned. He’d never described Geralt to his therapist, there were no explicit mentions of his appearance in the tune, and he hadn’t told her the track’s title. “Are my metaphors really that bad? Because yes, he is.”</p><p>“No, no,” she said, hastening to amend, “your lyricism is actually really captivating. I heard something about a lighthouse. Those can be seen from miles out. Thickly built, and pretty safe, too.”</p><p>“Of course,” Jaskier realized. If a perfect stranger could figure it out, the man whose idea it was to begin with, would have no problem.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Jaskier continued to compose, not only as his therapist encouraged it, but because he couldn’t stop. He felt focused for the first time in years. Aside from fueling to keep his body running, nothing seemed to matter.</p><p>There was more to purge than Jaskier knew what to do with and most nights, he couldn’t sleep to save his life. Not for a lack of trying, either; it was as though the symphony in his mind had been injected with a waking serum, playing endlessly, melodies almost screaming at him to be created, paired with words, recorded and re-worked a hundred times over.</p><p>The irony that he should hurt so deeply, from a breakup he still believed could be salvaged, and yet find such inspiration from it was not lost on Jaskier. As his last had silenced his talent, so his -- arguably -- best relationship should resuscitate his music in its wake.</p><p>He admitted to his therapist aloud that he hadn’t composed with such intensity, for anyone, in decades. Geralt leaving, while it tipped Jaskier over the most frightening edge, was the push he needed to begin healing from a past which had no right to continue haunting him.</p><p>He was hopeful he and Geralt could, maybe in a while, try again. Foolish perhaps, but Jaskier missed him horribly. He knew they were good together, and he knew where things went wrong. He was willing to give Geralt all the time it took to find his way back. Jaskier would be waiting, always for him, though hopefully no longer with his heart bleeding.</p><p>“Do you think that’s healthy?” his therapist said, on the subject.</p><p>“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”</p><p>“Well, what do you think?”</p><p>Jaskier in the moment was thinking just what on earth he was paying her for, if she was going to turn the tables like this on him.</p><p>“I think if I’d lost all hope of us getting back together, I wouldn’t be here with you. I know what went wrong with Geralt and I. But I also know we are meant to be.”</p><p>“What went wrong?”</p><p>Jaskier sighed deeply. “Well, first I’d have to tell you he is a mutant, and had trouble with the police recently.”</p><p>His therapist sat forward and looked at him sharply. “Oh, my God. Is he alright? Physically.”</p><p>“Yes, thank goodness,” Jaskier said appreciatively. “But the incident traumatized him. He was out of sorts, for various reasons. I knew he wasn’t being himself. I should have let it be, stuck it out a bit longer. But I made things worse. I questioned his identity, in a way, I see now, that contradicted everything about the way the world sees him.”</p><p>“That doesn’t sound too bad. Seems you were being accepting.”</p><p>“Only because you weren’t there,” Jaskier sighed. “The timing was all wrong. And the way I said it. Fuck. I meant to tell him I loved who he was, every aspect of it, and that I could see his humanity clearly. That to me, he was more than… a box to be checked on a census form.”</p><p>“So, he took your words the wrong way? Erasure of his DNA and its implication?”</p><p>“At first, yes,” Jaskier said. “But I think I got through to him, somehow. That’s where things went wrong. I don’t think anyone, aside perhaps his family, has ever seen Geralt as more than a mutant. For the person he is, not the way he looks, or the things he can do with his abilities. He just broke. Couldn’t handle me saying something so contrary, in the middle of all that happened to him.”</p><p>“The problem,” reasoned his therapist, “when one spends years believing what the world has reduced them to, is that it can be hard to even imagine, and accept, how much greater they can be. And here you come, taking him at face value. Seeing his humanity.”</p><p>“Exactly,” Jaskier said conclusively, feeling a weight drop from his shoulders. He wasn’t crazy after all. “I didn’t know he was a mutant when we first started dating, and even if I had, I would have fallen in love with him all the same. His qualities have always drawn me, and I was ready and willing to accept his faults.”</p><p>“You disturbed him with your words.”</p><p>“Further than his arrest,” Jaskier groaned. “He’d get angry, and I’d try not to react based on past experience. But something always felt off about it. That chip…” He sighed deeply, knowing it was one of the culprits. “The point is, I know what went wrong. It hurts, but I am willing to step back, if he’ll work out eventually, that I accept him wholly. Despite all that’s happened, he is still the one I want. He was good to me, in a way no one has been.”</p><p>His sweet, tentative Geralt, casting uncertain looks, dubious when Jaskier wanted to see him all over again, cautious when Jaskier kissed him freely, reserved when complimented.</p><p>“I wish he could be here right now,” Jaskier sighed. “There is so much I still do not know about him. About mutants, in general.”</p><p>“I’d like to recommend volunteer work,” his therapist said. “Start small, with the Greater Boston Food Bank. They do a lot of work with low income mutant families. There are also shelters, if you are comfortable.”</p><p>Jaskier wanted to connect with the community, so he took the suggestion to heart, thanking his therapist for the details. He continued to carry his longing for Geralt in his heart and called Yennefer that evening, asking her round on the weekend if she wasn’t busy.</p><p>She’d been trying to get him out of the house for weeks, and Jaskier was usually not up to going to beer gardens to idle with friends. In her opinion, he should have been getting back out there, bouncing back like he always did, even for something casual. But Jaskier couldn’t. Not now.</p><p>She did come to his apartment on the weekend, and she brought the harp as requested. They drank and listened to one of his songs, on which he needed her vocal and string accompaniment. Jaskier left her listening to refill their alcohol, and came back to find Yennefer in tears.</p><p>“My darling,” he frowned, sitting beside her, “what’s the matter?”</p><p>“It’s so beautiful,” Yennefer said, earning a deep, relieved sigh from him. “Who is this about? Don’t tell me it’s--”</p><p>“Let me show you the chord progression.” Jaskier grasped his guitar, and set to work. “If you could also back me up vocally, starting from the second verse, just that ‘dawning on me’ bit…”</p><p>“It is about him.” Yennefer scooted closer to her harp. “You hear from Hot Butcher, since that night? Guess it’s Hot Mutant now.”</p><p>Jaskier didn’t even want to know where that was coming from.</p><p>“I heard from Cirilla,” he said, keeping it brief. “She’s fine, and I miss her. Anyway, here are the lyrics.”</p><p>They jammed into the wee hours. The harp accompaniment was perfect. Jaskier miked her, and they recorded a couple of clean demos before she left.</p><p>He told himself he wouldn’t do it, but sleep was eluding him, so Jaskier caved and googled Hot Mutant. Geralt’s mugshot, naturally, had gone viral. Of all the things to happen to that man, he thought, sighing and shaking his head.</p><p>It was disconcerting, yet oddly reassuring to know he wasn’t the only person in Boston with good taste. Related searches included Hot Butcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, and other silliness on social media about influencer sponsorship Geralt would never, in a million years, agree to.</p><p>Jaskier couldn’t help but smile, thinking how grumpy Geralt would be, if he learned his new bordering-on-offensive moniker.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>By autumn, Jaskier had composed enough tracks for an official release. An EP crossed his mind, until he realized he had more than enough content not only for an LP, but ideas set on a back burner for solo record number two.</p><p>His therapy sessions were reduced to once a week as he became busier, though Jaskier was doing better. Not perfect, but functioning, volunteering, socializing, and back to normal as a new school year was in swing.</p><p>“Is today the day?” his therapist asked, when Jaskier pulled a bluetooth speaker out of his bag.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” Jaskier smiled at her. “I promised to bring in the home recordings, but I’ve got something better for you.”</p><p>“The real deal?”</p><p>“Mastered by my mate Valdo. Releasing in three days.”</p><p>“I’m so proud of you for doing this, Jaskier,” she told him. “It’s not every day someone I work with records an album, as it ties into the topics we cover and the things we work on.”</p><p>“This wouldn’t have been possible without you.” Jaskier smoothed a hand over his beard. He’d never recovered the healthy heft he’d lost, but he was no longer hollow. “Without further ado, shall we spend our session listening?”</p><p>The therapist closed her notepad, removed her glasses, and returned Jaskier’s smile as she settled more comfortably. Jaskier shared the tracklisting with her while they listened. She remembered the first tune, My Lighthouse, aptly placed to open the album.</p><p>Jaskier sang softly along to every song, until the album's midway point. It felt like a journey, and he knew intimately why he described a particular night as a hot, yet scary summer, how it left him in pieces, and the way, in spite of it all, his love still lingered. Jaskier still carried Geralt in him daily.</p><p>It was healing, listening back with his therapist. She remained quiet until the end.</p><p>“The structure of this album,” his therapist said, “follows the immense progress you’ve made toward healing. The obvious is the way your relationship with Geralt unfolded, the first half is clearly the romance, where the second half is the sober, and hopeful note. But your past lives in the layers and I can hear the way you’ve come to terms with it.”</p><p>“That’s quite the review.” Jaskier smiled softly. “Wasn’t all doom and gloom. I did learn from all this. I think I’m finally starting to find peace.”</p><p>“Very good.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>Jaskier released the album online. He compiled a single, with a B-Side, and gave that for free. Two sorry weeks of fall in Boston came and went right back.</p><p>Therapy became once every two weeks, and then once a month, if he could make it. Sometimes they spoke over the phone. Jaskier’s days were monopolized by teaching and volunteering at mutant shelters; house parties where he could perform were his nights, his weekends consisting of supporting local acts at venues, and doing open mics everywhere, to a handful of people, sometimes the unexpected crowd.</p><p>In the crowds, regardless of size, Jaskier fantasized someone would be Geralt, just waiting to encounter him outside, to take him back, to love him again.</p><p>The album gained some traction, to his great surprise, largely due to the immense support from his friends in the community of musicians. Jaskier was invited to perform on a couple of college radio stations in the city. He went by himself, with a guitar, when scheduling was a nightmare, especially given he still didn’t quite have a proper band.</p><p>He was able to get Yen with the harp for the session at Emerson College, thrilled their studio was equipped with a piano. They got three tunes and an interview to air at a later date.</p><p>A supporting act opportunity came his way and Jaskier took it promptly, clearing a few days in December to go across the country and sing his heart out.</p><p>In the new year, an indie label approached him for management, with an offer to remaster his record, and a shiny new tour manager.</p><p>From the moment Jaskier first laid eyes on Vilgefortz Roggeveen, he knew that they would, at some point, cross the line. With his dark hair and eyes, his quick smile and perfectly olive skin, Jaskier was in deep, dark trouble.</p><p>The last ridiculously handsome person to make his heart beat so quickly had an entire album made about them. And admittedly, Jaskier wasn’t the least bit over Geralt. But Vilgefortz’s painful appeal, so hard to ignore, brought to the forefront of Jaskier’s mind the long forgotten memory of sex.</p><p>“Since you have a week off next month, and another in April,” Vilgefortz said one evening, focused on his mac, “I can get you a few dates in the Northeast one month, and on the West Coast the next. You may have to take one day off in May for Boston Calling. It starts on a Friday. If you can’t, I can try to squeeze you in for the second or third day. They had some artists drop last minute, so I have to know ASAP.”</p><p>Jaskier hadn’t heard a word the man said. He blinked, realizing belatedly he was expected to answer. “Yes.”</p><p>“Yes, what?” Vilgefortz stared, a bemused smile quirking about his lips. “Yes, you’ll take Friday off for the festival, or yes to Saturday or Sunday is fine?”</p><p>“Sorry. I’ll manage to get off. Thanks.”</p><p>“Good.” He typed swiftly. “Unfortunately, the June bill we tried to get you on didn’t come through, but if there’s any way you can take the last week completely off, I can book you to support a great band for about a month in Europe. High visibility. You’d then kick off a few solo dates there, do some radio in Ireland, and YouTube sessions during festival season. That slates you nicely to come back for your debut North American tour starting in… Vancouver.”</p><p>“Where and when would that end?” Jaskier asked, focused now. “I’d like to know if I’ll be able to get back to teaching next fall.”</p><p>“Let’s see.” Vilgefortz scrolled for a few minutes, rich brown eyes narrowed. “Ah. Boston, actually, in December. It was going to be New Hampshire but looks like the Sinclair just got back to us. Great way to end a tour at home.”</p><p>Jaskier smiled, making note of the date. He’d have to take a leave from work. Missing four months of school to tour was a great trade-off, but Jaskier was hesitant on quitting his job entirely. He could always come back in January of the next year, exactly one year from this moment. He was going to have a very busy couple of months and summer.</p><p>“Excellent,” he said. “Well, I’m really looking forward to hitting the road with a proper band of my own.”</p><p>“It’s a great album.” Vilgefortz slid his laptop shut and leaned forward, to look more closely at Jaskier. “I’m sure there’s a story here.”</p><p>Jaskier's ears tinted under the scrutiny. “Isn’t there always?”</p><p>“Mind telling me over a drink?”</p><p>“Maybe some other time,” Jaskier chose wisely. “Thanks, Vilgefortz. I’ll see you next month.”</p><p>They fucked in April. It was during the mini-tour, in a hotel room in Los Angeles. Vilgefortz wasn’t Geralt, but that’s what closing his eyes was for. Besides, balls deep inside Jaskier, and the tour manager hit it right.</p><p>Only once, during that week’s numerous trysts, did Jaskier call out the wrong name. They never talked about it, and agreed to keep it to just sex. Work would still be work.</p><p>In May, Jaskier performed to a massive, enthusiastic crowd at Boston Calling in Government Center. It was his first time performing at the young festival and he was blown away by the positive response.</p><p>Cirilla came to the show. She called him after his set, just as he was coming down from the high of performing, and trying desperately to towel off the fountain of sweat from his body. Jaskier changed into a clean t-shirt, and promptly found a way to get her backstage.</p><p>“Did you come here alone?” he asked Ciri, leading her where only artists and special pass holders were allowed.</p><p>“No, my friends are watching the other bands. You were awesome!”</p><p>Jaskier couldn’t help but to smile at her. She had grown taller, and matured into a lovely, confident young person. They’d stayed in close contact since the breakup, neither willing to let the other go; ironic, seeing as he and Geralt hadn’t spoken since that day, nearly a year ago.</p><p>“Thank you, darling,” Jaskier said. “I’m going to have a beer, but is there something you would like? Are you hungry? I've got some free merch for you, as well.”</p><p>“I’m good, maybe just a coke.”</p><p>Drinks and gifts in in tow, they relocated to sit. Jaskier had an interview in half an hour, and Vilgefortz would come looking. He made the most of his time with Ciri, asking about her new school.</p><p>From what he could tell, it was the perfect place for her. She seemed to be thriving and it warmed Jaskier to see it. They talked for a good while before he managed to ask what he really wanted to know.</p><p>“How’s your dad, then?”</p><p>Since sitting down, anytime Cirilla even mentioned Geralt, Jaskier found himself listening more intently. She smiled now, but she frowned slightly at the same time, her face hesitant.</p><p>“He’s good. He found a new job, late last summer,” she opted to say, like it was safe. “Pays a lot better and the hours sound normal. Benefits and the whole package, so he’s still there.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s wonderful!”</p><p>“Yeah,” she sighed. “Boarding school is kind of expensive, and I’m getting the discounted version.”</p><p>“Better than public school, I am sure.” Jaskier drank. “So, Geralt’s doing alright, then? Still in Boston?”</p><p>“Yeah, he’s here.”</p><p>“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Jaskier had to ask. “I know it’s been, well…” Eleven months and six days. “Almost a year since we broke up. But I still care about him. And you. You know that, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, I know.” Ciri looked uncomfortable. “Okay look, this is probably nothing but, I kinda heard him mention hanging out with someone else lately. You know, just sometimes when I call him. Okay, maybe a lot.”</p><p>“Oh,” Jaskier scoffed, pretending the thought of Geralt seeing someone else wasn’t a knife twist to the gut. “Just that?”</p><p>“I don’t know if it’s serious, but she seems cool.”</p><p>“Ah, ‘she’,” he noted, his brows rising. Strange that it never occurred to him Geralt liked women, too. “Does ‘she’ have a name?”</p><p>“It’s none of my business.”</p><p>“He’s your father, Cirilla.”</p><p>“Ahh, I,” she pulled on the syllable, “shouldn’t have said anything.”</p><p>“Geralt can do as he pleases with whomever he chooses,” Jaskier said, not sure if he was trying to reassure her, or himself. “Frankly, I expected him to get back out there and... find someone new.”</p><p>“For the record,” Ciri said, drawing his attention when she touched his arm, “I think you two belong together. This thing with that mom lady is probably nothing.”</p><p>A mother. Well, parenthood in common, then. A mother for Ciri seemed a fine choice.</p><p>“Right,” Jaskier said, forcing a smile for Ciri. Vilgefortz approached and Jaskier soon had to hug Cirilla goodbye. “I must go. Feel free to enjoy your time backstage, but be safe, darling, alright? Thank you for coming to see me play.”</p><p>“Thanks, Jaskier. I missed you so much.”</p><p>“Young friend of yours?” Vilgefortz asked, when they both watched Ciri go.</p><p>“No. My ex’s daughter.” With that said, Jaskier walked off to be miked for an interview, ignoring the deep weight in his chest.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><p>It was speaking with Cirilla which made performing the album feel different. Jaskier began, in Europe, to say a few extra words about the music when he and the travel band came on stage. Revealing the album was written after some soul searching, some therapy. Touching briefly on heartbreak.</p><p>One night, he revealed to the audience the album was written for a man. A week later, Vilgefortz got an email saying Jaskier was more in demand for the summer, additional dates quickly slated.</p><p>He performed in Dublin, saw his mother briefly in Dún Laoghaire, at the suggestion of his therapist, but not his father. He went far and wide, altering what he revealed almost each night, sometimes giving more details, sometimes just feeling nothing at all except tired. He continued to sleep with Vilgefortz out of convenience and sadness, until Prague, when the man asked if there was any chance Jaskier could, at the end of the summer, request for another tour manager, so they could get serious.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jaskier had to tell him. “I still love someone else, and can’t be serious, not with you, right now.”</p><p>“I should have known. The way you sing every night,” Vilgefortz replied. “But I thought I’d try anyway.”</p><p>“If you would like to stop managing me, I can understand,” Jaskier said. “I will honor your request.”</p><p>“After your headlining tour.”</p><p>Jaskier could live with that. He returned to headline in North America to a slate of sold-out dates. Every night, he played packed venues to crowds that knew all the words to so many of his songs, praising and blaming and adoring and missing Geralt, all together under the light shows.</p><p>He was floored by the praising reviews, the sales, and the way he sometimes couldn’t even squeeze all the engagements there were, between radio, interviews, setting up at venues and seeing a city. It was a whirlwind that felt exhilarating, but at times, incredibly lonely.</p><p>Jaskier wrote on the road, not wanting to make another record about Geralt, and yet invariably doing so for a few songs without titles. In the news, the cruel death of a young mutant mobilized cities. Jaskier found his anger and sadness bleeding into lyrics for his next project, artfully speaking out against insulated bigotry.</p><p>It felt right to use his voice at shows, in support and tolerance toward mutants. He wanted to foster a safe space at his concerts. One evening, in a city he no longer remembered the name of, Jaskier revealed after much hesitation, the love which inspired his record out of nothing, was a mutant.</p><p>He received a call the next day, to inform him of an uptick in demand, in listener count, and to discuss more time on the road into the following year. Jaskier faced the decision to keep teaching or to play music full time more quickly than he knew, trying to afford himself time off to create new material. It all seemed to have gone so exponentially beyond what he could dream of, he truly felt at a loss.</p><p>Portsmouth finally came, after months on the road, it was the second to last night of his tour. The crowd in New Hampshire did not disappoint.</p><p>“Hi, my name is Jaskier,” he began like usual, after the first song, “it’s so good to see you all out here tonight.” He thanked and praised his supporting acts.</p><p>“We have copies of the album, and after the set I’ll be right there to say hello to anyone who’d like, so please don’t be shy. This is our second to last night of the tour, and I thought I’d play the album in order for you, but the band has convinced me otherwise, so if any of you are in Boston tomorrow night, we’ll be playing the album as it’s meant to be heard, there. Cheers.”</p><p>During the encore, he made a special mention of his support for the lives and wellness of mutants, and urged anyone who liked his music to be compassionate.</p><p>“I love you all, you have a place in this world with us. I’ve loved one of you with all my heart. This album was the result, and my gift to anyone who feels they are undeserving of being loved, because of who they’ve been told to be, by a society which can’t celebrate them.”</p><p>He cleaned up hastily after the set, and went out as promised, to meet people, to take billions of pictures with the kindest fans imaginable from all walks of life and abilities. The merch sold completely out again, and the crowd thinned as the venue started to shut down.</p><p>“Got a moment for one last fan?” called a voice.</p><p>Jaskier took one look and broke into incredulous laughter.</p><p>“Roach!” He advanced to collect her in his arms. “Oh, goodness! What a treat seeing you here, you absolute legend.”</p><p>“Ciri told me you were going on tour and you wouldn’t believe how hard it was to get a ticket here when it’s sold out. Last minute is the name of the game.”</p><p>“You should have told me you were coming!” Jaskier cried. “This is what guest lists are for and I don’t use those nearly enough as I should.”</p><p>“Well, it’s very good to see you,” Roach looked around. “And in your element. Your music is really beautiful.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Jaskier bowed humbly. “How’re the boys doing up at the ranch?”</p><p>“Good,” Roach said. “Business is good for Danek, Dara’s a junior this year. Everyone’s great.”</p><p>“I hope work is going well?”</p><p>“I had a lot of cases, following Geralt’s last year,” Roach said, “so it’s been busy, but I help bring justice to as many people as I can. I saw your website and you’ve been busy yourself.”</p><p>“On the road these last few months,” Jaskier said. “But the response to the record, it’s been mad, I still can’t believe it.”</p><p>“Well deserved. I’m happy for you.” Roach smiled at him. “I tried to convince Geralt to be here tonight with me. You know how stubborn he is.”</p><p>Jaskier’s smile wavered. “Yes, well, I am spoiled you are here. I wish we were wrapping tonight actually, I would love to catch up.”</p><p>“That's right, you’ve never been to the ranch.”</p><p>“And what a crime that is, eh?” Jaskier said. “I saw Ciri a few months ago though, she came to the festival in Boston.”</p><p>“She told me, yes.”</p><p>“She’s grown so much, I couldn’t believe it.”</p><p>“You miss her,” Roach said, “don’t you?”</p><p>“Of course I do.”</p><p>“And Geralt.”</p><p>Jaskier shifted his stance, finally caving by asking, “How is he these days?”</p><p>“Short answer? Great. I can tell,” Roach said, “that you still care about him. From the way you perform, I can just feel it. Geralt is harder to read. Do you know what he thinks?”</p><p>“I… No. We haven’t exactly… talked at all in the last year and half.”</p><p>“Do you ever think about why?”</p><p>“Yes,” Jaskier said. “Not a day goes by that I don’t and, to be honest, Roach, given the way we left things, I’m fairly certain he doesn’t want to hear from me.”</p><p>“That’s what he reasoned to me, when I asked him about you.”</p><p>He stared at Roach, thrown by the admission, mulling it over inside.</p><p>“One of you,” Roach said, “will eventually have to break your silence. No one else in the family can do that for you, or tell you when the right time will be.”</p><p>Jaskier found he couldn't agree more. After all, once two souls joined, how long could bodies keep apart?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jaskier's live performances: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLZmDtj85E4&amp;list=PL_gZVebd8qNV5f42T0V_qtwblVvCNbQ-P">belong (unplugged)</a></p><p>Moodboards, analyses, and Belong verse one shots: <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">aalizazareth.tumblr.com/belongfic</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>GERALT</b>
</p>
<p>Geralt thought he would have more time, but it seemed to be slipping through his fingers like rushing water. He purchased Cirilla a second suitcase, because she wanted to take more things than anticipated, and they didn’t have spare luggage lying around at home. They typically never went anywhere, except to move apartments. </p>
<p>The conversation between them, about application and likely admission to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, had wound up being of the most difficult Geralt took part in. It ranked up there with breaking up with Jaskier. Seeing Ciri determined about what she wanted to learn, the kind of life she sought as a young mutant, left him both proud that he’d reared such a fine kid, and disappointed his best efforts to give her a good home simply didn’t measure up to the mutant academy. </p>
<p>“I won’t stop you, Cirilla,” Geralt had told her. “I know it’s a good school. You’ll fit in there, you’ll make friends. When you’re old enough, you’ll decide where you want to take your life. If it’s really what you want, you have my support.”</p>
<p>“But it’s not what you want,” Ciri wisely put together.</p>
<p>Maybe it was the look on his face, or the way he’d tried to avoid the conversation long enough for her to corner him in their own home. Geralt hadn’t felt ready at the time. He didn’t feel ready the night before she was due to leave either, starting a summer session and sticking around for the school year.</p>
<p>“I think that’s everything,” Ciri said, tucking her backpack next to her luggage.</p>
<p>Geralt tested it for weight, having advised she keep a few essentials in it and pack everything else in her luggage.</p>
<p>“Looks good,” Geralt said. “You ready for dinner?”</p>
<p>“Yep.”</p>
<p>It would be their last together for a while. Geralt cooked quietly. He tried to be cheerful but it was hard. He felt sad. She’d turned fifteen recently and he could hardly believe it had only been five years since he became her guardian.</p>
<p>They ate quietly. Mostly, he asked her if she had everything, trying to shake loose anything she might have forgotten.</p>
<p>“I’m going to start working soon,” he told her. “I’m looking for a job, every day. Roach found a decent staffing agency, I’m going in next week to see what I can find.”</p>
<p>“You’ll find something soon,” Ciri encouraged.</p>
<p>“I’ll pay off the debt and get a car,” Geralt went on, as if listing his plans would make this easier. “This way if anything comes up or you need something, I’ll come to you.”</p>
<p>“It’s only Western Mass, Geralt,” she said gently.</p>
<p>“It’s two hours away,” he insisted. “It’s basically Hartford.”</p>
<p>“It is not Connecticut.” Ciri grinned, patting his forearm. “It’s going to be okay. I wish this school was in Boston so I could stay home. You know that.”</p>
<p>Geralt knew. He nodded silently. “I’ll find a way to pick you up for the holidays,” he said. “Come home for all of them.”</p>
<p>“I will,” Ciri said, “promise.”</p>
<p>“And…” Geralt hesitated. “I’m only saying this so you know, so you don’t forget, but… if you ever change your mind and want to come home, Ciri, just know that you can. Anytime. I’m not going anywhere. Nothing is changing, I’ll still be here for you. You got that?”</p>
<p>“We’re a family,” Ciri said, nodding. “I got it.”</p>
<p>“Good. Alright.” </p>
<p>Some small part of him still hoped she would have a change of heart, but Geralt knew that was selfish. The family up in Portsmouth all came down to Roslindale the following day, and they took Ciri to the X Mansion. They helped move her in. Geralt watched his whole world walk away from him. No matter how many hugs they exchanged, separating from Ciri once she was all settled hit him harder than he was prepared for.</p>
<p>He took the long way back toward the parking lot, where he knew Roach, Danek, and Dara awaited, and heard the soft cadence of a woman speaking. Geralt rounded into a private driveway, where a motorcycle was being serviced.</p>
<p>To one side of the Harley was a young lady. On the other, a familiar face turned over to peer suspiciously at Geralt. Judging from the tool exchange, which Geralt’s appearance had interrupted, someone was learning to replace a headlight.</p>
<p>“Didn’t think you’d be back,” Logan raised.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Well,” Geralt shrugged, taking the words as an invitation to approach, “Ciri wants to be here.”</p>
<p>“This place isn’t half bad. Safe. Good teachers.”</p>
<p>“You one of them?” Geralt said, gesturing toward the motorcycle.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but not this. Hey Rogue,” he called, and the young lady hastened up. “This is Geralt. His kid just started here. Mind checking on her? Name’s Ciri.”</p>
<p>“Sure.” She flashed a gapped smile when Geralt nodded, and swept past both men.</p>
<p>He watched her go before saying, “Your kid?”</p>
<p>“No.” Logan returned to his work. “But she may as well be. She’ll look out for your girl.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.” Geralt should have gotten going, but he approached to check out the motorcycle.</p>
<p>“We all will.” Logan looked over from the headlight. “Take it from the guy who gave you that scar, pal. Do a hell of a lot worse to anyone after our students, including your kid. Alright?”</p>
<p>“Thanks.” Geralt appreciated that, truly. “Need a hand?”</p>
<p>Logan stepped aside and let Geralt into the workspace, giving him an excuse to stick around a few extra minutes, before heading back to Boston.</p>

<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>The staffing agency was in Cambridge. Geralt had vaguely heard of them, because they worked exclusively with mutants, finding them decent job placements with reputable organizations. Roach told him they also specialized in helping mutants with criminal records, and those without a higher education degree, to find professional work that could be learned with sufficient training. Their aim was to bridge the gap between humans and mutants.<p>He emerged from the Red Line at Harvard Square and walked a few blocks. Geralt wore a nice shirt and trousers, but it was hot, and sweat ran down his back, caught in the undershirt. He hoped there would be air conditioning at the agency. Thankfully, it blew down on him at reception.</p>
<p>“Hi,” he said politely. “I have an appointment. Last name is Rivia.”</p>
<p>“Can I see some ID, sir?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Geralt fetched it and waited, gripping the leather case folio with copies of his resume and other paperwork.</p>
<p>“Here you are. Check in on the second floor and they should be able to let you know which agent will be seeing you today.”</p>
<p>The second floor wasn’t as cool as reception and Geralt waited among a group of mutants. Most of them couldn’t pass for human, and there were many who, like him, seemed to have done their best to dress nicely but were visibly uncomfortable in ties and slacks. He felt glad he’d gone with short sleeves, and he fetched a tissue from his pocket to wipe beads of perspiration from his hairline. He’d shaved for today and cleaned up his haircut.</p>
<p>An office door opened nearby. Geralt wished he wore his contacts, though he knew there was no point. He found himself imagining Jaskier working in a place like this, coming into contact with mutants every day and helping them find work.</p>
<p>“Mr. Rivia?” a woman called.</p>
<p>Geralt rose and smoothed a hand over his shirt. Brown eyes took him in for heel to head.</p>
<p>“Hello.” The curly-haired woman extended a hand. “My name is Triss Merigold.”</p>
<p>“Geralt Rivia,” he said, shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”</p>
<p>“And you. Please,” she ushered, “my office is just here.”</p>
<p>Geralt entered and waited to be invited to sit, before taking his place opposite a sturdy and supremely organized desk. The office was small, yet thankfully cooler than the waiting area, and its owner wore a femine fragrance. It seemed to come from her wrists, as her shampoo, Geralt could tell, smelled differently, with a hint of citrus.</p>
<p>“Can I just say, you have the most wonderful eyes, Geralt. I assume those are not contacts?”</p>
<p>“No,” Geralt said. “Mutation turned them like this. And my hair.”</p>
<p>“Ah.” Triss had a warm smile for him. “Well, it’s good you’re proudly displaying them. When we do our placements we encourage everyone to report to the workplace as they are, if that is comfortable for them. We don’t seek to hide anything.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.”</p>
<p>“So, shall we begin?” Triss slid slender fingers over a mouse and keyboard. “I have your resume here, but if you’ve got an updated copy I can take that, along with photocopies of your identification documents.”</p>
<p>Geralt procured everything and deposited pages on the desk. She made photocopies and typed some more.</p>
<p>“Alright,” she mused, “let’s see. Your last two jobs were both in Blaviken. Whole Foods Meat Department and Apartment Security, is that right?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“And you were let go from both?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>More typing. “Would you say you were let go unfairly?”</p>
<p>Geralt didn’t know how to answer that. Thick dark curls bounced when she turned expectantly in his direction.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure.”</p>
<p>“Did you miss work?”</p>
<p>“I did,” Geralt replied.</p>
<p>“Repeatedly?”</p>
<p>“No. It was the first time without warning.”</p>
<p>“Then, you were let go unfairly.” She typed further and then raised, “The circumstance behind why they let you go?”</p>
<p>“I was arrested,” Geralt replied.</p>
<p>“Any jail time?”</p>
<p>“No,” Geralt said.</p>
<p>“Court?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Okay. That should be it for that section.” She turned to face him fully, organizing the photocopies she’d made into folders. “So, I’ll briefly go over what our organization does and then we can discuss some of the options I have for you. Our mission is to get as many mutants working professional jobs as possible. </p>
<p>“We partner with inclusive companies, mostly young ones, but we have many established clients as well. The important thing to remember about the roles is the skills can be learned on the job. We receive open positions from recruiters and send you out to the interviews of your choice. </p>
<p>“If you’re hired, our company is paid by the partners. This keeps the program free of charge to participants. Any questions so far?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Great!” While she spoke, Geralt had the impression Triss was alike to a ray of sunshine. Her brown eyes were bright, her lightly tanned face open and warm. She was beautiful, really. He hadn’t seen anyone like this since… “Geralt?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Sorry, you were saying?”</p>
<p>“I was saying do you have any dependents?”</p>
<p>“Yes. One.”</p>
<p>“Alright.” She was back at the computer. “Spouse, child, or other?”</p>
<p>“Child.”</p>
<p>“Great. This will help us ensure the benefits package the company you end up with is adequate,” Triss said. “We send you off to the interview but we help with salary negotiation as well. We want to make sure you’ll get paid as fairly as any human in the same position, and be eligible for the same opportunities for growth.”</p>
<p>Geralt remained still, patient, not knowing how long this would take. Not that he had anywhere to be.</p>
<p>“I’ve got five different opportunities for you,” Triss said. “You can go out to all five interviews, if you’d like, or choose whichever you feel is a good fit, and if they like you back, we’ll smooth over the process as much as possible. Two are culinary. I’ve got something in fitness, and two in technology. Any preference?”</p>
<p>Geralt didn’t have one. “Any of them customer service?”</p>
<p>“Three out of the five are client facing, yes, the fitness center and tech support.” She cast him a glance. “Think you can fix a computer?”</p>
<p>“I fixed Ciri’s computer the last time it gave her trouble,” Geralt said. “That’s my daughter.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you have a daughter.” Triss smiled with interest at him. “How old?”</p>
<p>“Fifteen.”</p>
<p>“Big girl. I have a young son. Three years old.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.”</p>
<p>“Anyway, if you’d like to try one of the tech roles, I recommend the startup. We’ve placed a few people there in the last couple of years, all in different roles, and hear it’s a great environment. Great pay and benefits.”</p>
<p>“What’s the position?”</p>
<p>“Desktop Support Specialist, on the job training, and you’d be earning at least in the high fifties,” Triss said. “Of course we’ll negotiate for more, if they want you onboard.”</p>
<p>“What kind of hours?”</p>
<p>“Full time at forty hours, potential for over time, some nights and weekends if you can.”</p>
<p>“I can work anytime.” This sounded better than Geralt could have expected. He made far less than that working two jobs, at double the hours. “Let’s go with that one.”</p>
<p>“Great! I’ll put you in contact with the recruiter, and they’ll do a screening call,” she said, “and hopefully schedule a time for you to come in. Not that they won’t, but you must let us know if you don’t hear from them. Our job is to make sure they stay on top of things and get you hired quickly.”</p>
<p>“Alright.”</p>
<p>“I’ll print this all out for you, just a one pager on who they are and what they do…”</p>
<p>Geralt had nothing else to do but watch her and look over the paperwork she gave him.</p>
<p>“Would you like some help preparing for the interview?”</p>
<p>“Right now?”</p>
<p>Triss gave him a bemused smile. She was very pretty. “Why not. Tell me, very briefly, why you think you’d be a good fit for the role.”</p>
<p>“I’ve worked with people before. Know how to listen for what customers need. I come to work every day, always doing my best. In my last role, I was the closing clerk, making sure people on the team did their part before leaving.”</p>
<p>“And why do you want to work for this startup?”</p>
<p>“Honest answer?” Geralt said, “Or what they’d want to hear?”</p>
<p>“Give me the latter first.”</p>
<p>“I’d like to be a part of an organization where mutants are accepted. It’s not easy to get hired, when most places aren’t inclusive. I’m a hard worker, I know how to take directions, I’m team oriented. I’m looking for a great place to bring my strengths to the table.”</p>
<p>“Oh, very good.” She tilted her head. “And the honest reason?”</p>
<p>“I’m in a lot of debt, ma’am,” Geralt told her. “I haven’t worked in months. Gotta pay my sister back. Bills, rent. My kid just started boarding school and it is not cheap.”</p>
<p>She seemed to take him more seriously when she heard that last. Triss gave him a nod and a polite smile. </p>
<p>“During your interview, stay positive, and eager,” she told him. “Go over the one-pager on what they do, so you’re prepared. Ask them questions. If you’re not sure what to ask, think about management style. Ask them how they do things, how new employees are trained, whether people on the team get along. You do that, and I’ll get you this job. And the highest salary possible to start. Do we have a deal?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Thank you, Mrs. Merigold.”</p>
<p>“Miss,” she corrected him. “You’re welcome.”</p>

<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>They called Geralt a day after he met Triss, he came in for a couple of interviews, and they seemed to like him. He spoke to Triss over the phone and they went over salary options, what they offered, and what she planned to tell them another place would counter offer if he interviewed elsewhere. Geralt couldn’t believe the result when he actually got the job.<p>After about a week of adjusting to the new commute, seeing as the startup was also in Cambridge, Geralt decided to write Triss a thank you email. On second thought, he reflected a card might be nicer. Unable to decide, he asked one of his colleagues, Adaeze, a friendly and helpful recent college grad who was one of the people on the team training him. She was a skinny, energetic young lady and she reminded him of Ciri.</p>
<p>“What about a hand delivered card and chocolate?” Adaeze suggested, with her lively eyes.</p>
<p>“Isn’t that a little much?” Geralt worried.</p>
<p>“No, it’s super cute. I’ll get you some stationary at CVS on my break. I need a birthday card anyway.”</p>
<p>In hindsight, he should have chosen the card himself, but he supposed the delighted bears were nice. The startup was in Central Square, only a train stop away from Triss, so Geralt went during his luxurious one hour break. It was another unbearably hot day, but the nice thing about working at a young and hip company with mutants making up a healthy part of the population, was he could dress fairly business casual. Geralt didn’t make it far into the building, running into Triss as she crossed reception.</p>
<p>She looked preoccupied and barely saw him. For a split second, he thought it might be better to leave the gift at her office upstairs, for her to find later.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he called out instead. “Bad time?”</p>
<p>“Hi Geralt! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Triss came to a tentative halt. “I have to run, is there something I can help you with?”</p>
<p>“No. I just came to drop this off.” He felt awkward giving her a gift. “Just to say thanks for helping me with the job. It’s going great.”</p>
<p>“Oh, wow, this is so nice of you…” Her eyes went wide and her freckles suddenly became more prominent. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say.”</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t hold you up.” Geralt stepped out of the way.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I really just have to run, but thank you for this. You shouldn’t have.”</p>
<p>“No problem.” Geralt watched her go, taking advantage of a few seconds in the AC. He checked the time, seeing he had another forty five minutes to do as he pleased. Geralt emerged, thinking he’d return to have his homemade sandwich at his desk, when a frustrated <i>thump</i> and honk caught his attention on the sidewalk.</p>
<p>Triss Merigold sat in her car, looking very frustrated. Geralt should have kept walking but he came back.</p>
<p>“Everything okay?” he asked, tapping on the window.</p>
<p>Triss looked up from her phone and emerged. “No, actually,” she sighed. “Car problems, and I have to go pick up my son, because his father is good for nothing.” </p>
<p>Geralt stared, not having expected all that information. “I can take a look,” he offered, uncertainly, “if you want.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that of you…”</p>
<p>“I’m on my break,” Geralt said. “Got some time to kill before I get back to work. Could use something to do.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p>Her tentativeness reminded him of Jaskier. He realized he would hate to leave her stranded. </p>
<p>“See if you can get an Uber, just in case. I’ll take a look.” He popped the hood of the car and tinkered around for a few minutes. His hands got dirty, but that was okay. He asked for the keys, tried a few things, tinkered some more, and it came back alive.</p>
<p>“Oh my God,” Triss said. “How did you do that?”</p>
<p>“Tell you another time,” Geralt said, dusting his hands off. “But you’ll want your mechanic to take a look. Uh… I can put what the problem was in writing, in an email, if you want.”</p>
<p>“Please.” She smiled so brightly at Geralt, he didn’t know what to do with it. “You’re a lifesaver. And thank you for the wonderful gift, it’s so sweet.”</p>
<p>“Take care,” Geralt said, stepping away and going back to work. The moment he was back at his computer, he sent out the email. It was a little more detailed than she probably needed, and he made sure to tell her how much they should charge. Anything more was just sexism.</p>
<p>When prompted, he reported back the card and chocolate was a big hit. Adaeze decided at that moment Geralt was to be her friend. The afternoon elapsed in training, moving desktops from storage rooms, and doing some support work in person. Geralt enjoyed the fact that beyond staring or sometimes asking, no one seemed to be bothered by his obvious mutation. He was the support technician, before he was a mutant.</p>

<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Coming home to an empty apartment was difficult. It was lonely without Ciri. The door of her room was always open. Sometimes Geralt went to sit on her bed, remembering the way she was always at that computer. He’d promised to buy her a laptop for school as soon there were fewer debts to catch up on.<p>It was incredible that he was making significantly more money now, and still had so much free time at night and on the weekends. He’d told his manager he was happy to be on call anytime they needed, especially once he got more training, though he omitted the fact that it was because he had nothing better to do.</p>
<p>September came and Geralt had a long weekend off work, a perk of being a salaried employee. One of the highlights was Ciri calling him on FaceTime, showing him what she was up to, what she was learning, and what some of the kids around her could do. She seemed so happy and that made him glad, but he felt her absence deeply when she hung up.</p>
<p>After months of denying himself, Geralt accepted that it wasn’t just Cirilla he missed. He knew he’d hurt Jaskier by walking away, and he hated himself for it, feeling more undeserving than ever. </p>
<p>It took a lot of time, of not thinking about it and subconsciously mulling it over, but Geralt thought he could see a fraction of what Jaskier had tried to say to him. His colleagues treated him as an equal, the humans at the company were nice enough, never blatantly putting his mutation first, even during casual conversations on Fridays, having beer in the kitchen. If strangers could be impartial, maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe there was someone in him worthy of Jaskier’s love.</p>
<p>A day into the Labor Day weekend, Triss called him unexpectedly.</p>
<p>“I’m taking my son to a cookout this afternoon,” she said, “and I was wondering if you wanted to join us? It’s mostly folks from the agency, so it shouldn't be too awkward. Are you busy?”</p>
<p>“No,” Geralt said. He’d been contemplating doing laundry. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“Of course! Come along, it’s going to be fun!”</p>
<p>“Okay.” Geralt changed plans and clothes, checked the address sent to him, and made his way over. The gathering was lively, Triss was easier to locate, her dark brown curls easily catching the light. She had a boy situated on her hip when she sent Geralt a wave.</p>
<p>“Hey, you made it!”</p>
<p>“Yeah. This your boy?” Geralt shot him a smile. “Hey bud, what’s your name?”</p>
<p>The child shared his mother’s charming freckles. He wore tiny glasses that came around to the back of his head. Geralt wondered what it might have been like if Ciri was a boy instead. Having a son was bound to be different. Jaskier had said once it might be nice to have a son.</p>
<p>“My name is Leo and I’m three!” the kid declared, without the usual shyness of children. “What about you?”</p>
<p>“Uh, my name is Geralt and I’m forty three.” Triss chuckled  at them. “Cute kid.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” she beamed, “come along, I’ll get you a beer. We’ve got hot dogs and all kinds of food. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“I would have spent it inside if you hadn’t called.”</p>
<p>“That’s hard to believe,” she said. “I’m sure your friends aren’t missing this wonderful weather.”</p>
<p>“I tend to keep to myself,” Geralt admitted, because it was true that he was a loner. “If Ciri was here, we might have gone for a run.”</p>
<p>“That’s your daughter, isn’t it?” Triss asked and Geralt nodded. “Which boarding school does she attend?”</p>
<p>“Xavier’s, in Western Mass.”</p>
<p>“That’s legendary,” Triss cried. “You realize it’s the top school in the country for young mutants, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“So I keep getting told.” Geralt helped himself to a beer in a cooler, nodding thanks to the familiar office employees from Triss’s work. “She’s liking it there, so I can’t complain.”</p>
<p>“Can I ask where her mother is?”</p>
<p>“Pavetta died when Ciri was a baby,” Geralt said.</p>
<p>“Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t know you were widowed.”</p>
<p>Geralt lowered his beer, watching her switch her son from one hip to the other. “Ciri’s actually adopted,” he said, “kind of. I’m her guardian. Technically.”</p>
<p>Triss’s eyes widened and her mouth opened. “Oh. It’s just… you speak so fondly of her, I’d have thought you were her birth father. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“I knew her parents, but she never did. I took her in after her grandparents passed away.”</p>
<p>“Do you have pictures?” Triss asked, her smile returning.</p>
<p>Geralt fetched his phone and showed her probably way too many, and he went off about what Ciri liked to do, and how smart she was, how he dyed her hair at the start of the previous school year, and the little decorations she’d make for Thanksgiving, and how she could spend hours on the computer just writing, and how she could keep up jogging with him and how, basically, she was a really great kid and he was just the lucky bastard that got to be her dad.</p>
<p>By the time he shut up, Triss was smiling at him and snuggling her son, and Geralt couldn’t help but think about the last person who’d looked so softly at him.</p>

<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>It started with the cookout. Then, it was the occasional invitation to get coffee or lunch, Triss always more than willing to take the train from Harvard Square to meet him, Geralt often suggesting it was no problem for him to come to her. She wasn’t on the best of terms with her ex-husband. Most of the time, she was stressed about something to do with her son. When she called him one afternoon, asking for the favor of picking up Leo from preschool, Geralt went without hesitation, took her keys, and brought the kid to her office.<p>Triss looked like she wanted to hug him and Geralt thought about the way he and Jaskier used to hug. She invited him for dinner in her home, with her son, and he watched her dote on the child until he was put to bed. </p>
<p>They unwinded with alcohol, and when she kissed him, he returned it. She told him that night she wasn’t looking for anything serious until her divorce was processed. Geralt told her he wasn’t entirely interested in sex, but company was nice, and sorely missed, if she was down to just hang out.</p>
<p>They continued to not-date, seeing each other into the winter, and she hired childcare and came round to his place. After they had sex a few times, Geralt made sure to ask her if what she’d told him a few months prior still stood. That she wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. She amended her answer and said she was, inevitably, developing feelings. </p>
<p>Immediately, Geralt came clean to her, and to himself, about Jaskier.</p>
<p>“I’m not over my ex,” he told Triss flat out. </p>
<p>They were still in bed, glistening with the aftermath of their session, and she didn’t seem taken aback by his words.</p>
<p>“Well, do you want to get back with her?”</p>
<p>“It’s complicated.” Geralt hadn’t talked about Jaskier before. “I hurt him, badly, and I haven’t made that right. I don’t know if I can, but... I still love him. You have to know that, if you’re starting to have feelings for me, I can’t reciprocate. I still have them for someone else.”</p>
<p>“Thank you for telling me, then,” Triss said, seeming calm and nonplussed. “I still would like to keep seeing you, in case that ever changes. For now I’ll assume it won’t, but you’d have to let me know if it does.”</p>
<p>“Sure.” That went better than he was hoping. “You don’t mind… that my ex is a man?”</p>
<p>“Not in the least,” Triss replied. “But I am a little jealous, because you’re quite the catch you know. Good father, reliable friend, great with my son. I mean, Leo thinks you’re like a superhero, or something.”</p>
<p>“I’m just a mutant,” Geralt mumbled. “Nothing more.”</p>
<p>“Oh, come on.” Triss tutted. “All it takes is one afternoon with you to know you’re so much more than <i>just</i> a mutant…”</p>
<p>She carried on speaking, but Geralt stopped listening. Jaskier’s face returned to him, those exact words, which he couldn’t clearly process the first few times. A piece fell into place suddenly and Geralt saw his error, clear as day. Jaskier had seen him, truly. That’s why the mutation seemed inconsequential, and he kept insisting Geralt was not a mutant. Not just a mutant…</p>
<p>“Hmm,” he grunted, cutting off Triss. “<i>Fuck.</i>”</p>

<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>The friendship with Triss remained. She was kind and as a single mother, she needed help once in a while. When Geralt finally had enough money to get a car, he gladly helped her out with whatever she needed, though they stopped sleeping together when it became clear his lingering feelings for an ex weren’t going anywhere.<p>Toward the end of May, Ciri called him to say she was heading down to Boston for a music festival, but driving back to Western Mass with her friends. He’d just seen her for the spring break and it felt too short, like all the holidays she spent home.</p>
<p>“You guys could come home and spend the night,” Geralt suggested, knowing it was merely an attempt to see her, even if briefly, “drive back in the morning. Might be safer, and we have enough room.”</p>
<p>“No, that’s alright, the drive’s not too bad.”</p>
<p>“Okay. If you’re sure. So, what is this festival?”</p>
<p>“Boston Calling!” she said, and Geralt felt like she’d told him before. “Jaskier’s playing, he made an album.”</p>
<p>Geralt went quiet. This was news to him. He didn’t know how Ciri knew but he suspected the world wide web. Every time he thought about calling Jaskier he lost his nerve. The one time he finally did, some other person answered, and Geralt had called from work, anyway. He didn’t expect Jaskier to call back.</p>
<p>“Dad? Daaad.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, sweetie I’m here.”</p>
<p>“I said Jaskier is performing.”</p>
<p>“I heard you.”</p>
<p>“Well, he’s going on tour in Europe soon, so right now might be a good time to… I don’t know, try and reconnect? It’s been like a year.”</p>
<p>“I got Triss on the other line, kiddo,” Geralt said, “call me when you make it back to school.”</p>
<p>“Alright. Love you.”</p>
<p>“Love you too.”</p>
<p>An album. Europe. Jaskier had probably changed his number. Good for him, Geralt thought. It seemed Jaskier was holding up just fine. Geralt was happy knowing the music was back. He knew how Jaskier had struggled without it and he was proud of him. But more than anything, he felt discouraged about ever making things right again.</p>
<p>In the ensuing summer months, marking more than a year since their breakup, it took every ounce of willpower he had left not to look up Jaskier. Ciri tried talking about him often, since she was home for the summer, but Geralt never knew what to say in response to all the success, the sold out shows. </p>
<p>She texted him a link while he was at work once, of a radio session called the Tiny Desk Concert. Geralt felt his heart squeeze at Jaskier’s perfect, bearded face in the thumbnail. He didn’t have it in him to click on it. He wrote back, “Great”, and left it at that. </p>
<p>He was promoted, after a year of good work, a minor step forward with a very slight salary increase. Apparently the next one, with this track record, would be more significant.</p>
<p>Having Ciri at home made his life so much better. He loved leaving work around five o’clock to see her at the house by six. Geralt took his two weeks of vacation in the year and they went to the ranch for a few days, and then to Cape Cod. </p>
<p>Roach told him Jaskier was on a North American tour, that he would be coming to Portsmouth well after Ciri went back to the X Mansion. She said she was trying to get tickets from resale sites, because the tour was sold out. Geralt wished her luck and kept it at that.</p>
<p>She called him again, randomly one winter morning, while he was at work. “Jaskier’s concert last night,” Roach said, “was mesmerizing. I talked to him afterwards. He’s playing in Boston tonight, you know.”</p>
<p>“Hmm. Probably sold out.”</p>
<p>“It is. Have you heard of a guest list?”</p>
<p>“He wouldn’t put me on something like that.”</p>
<p>“Well, you need to see him. Just once. It’s been over a year.”</p>
<p>“I’ll talk to you later, Rochelle.”</p>
<p>Roach sighed. “Bye bye, then.”</p>
<p>Around five thirty in the afternoon, Adaeze grabbed her coat and stretched slender arms above her thick halo of hair. </p>
<p>“Garoo! I’m out of here,” she told him. “Going to a concert tonight.”</p>
<p>“Who are you seeing?”</p>
<p>“This really good Irish artist.” Geralt leveled Adaeze with careful, golden eyes. “His name is Jaskier.”</p>
<p>“Where?”</p>
<p>“The Sinclair in Cambridge. It’s super sold out though.”</p>
<p>“Hmm. Fuck.” She giggled, like she always did when he grunted, and he said, “Have fun.”</p>
<p>Geralt had been asked to work late, so he didn’t pack up at his usual time. When the office cleared out, he coordinated with another team member, and they patched some issues with the phone system. After a few rounds of successful testing with an external office, Geralt was free to go.</p>
<p>His new satchel was tossed over broad shoulders. It was laden with his work laptop, which he needed for some remote maintenance he’d volunteered for, over the upcoming weekend. He walked to the parking, tucked his bag in his vehicle, and sat behind the wheel, considering.</p>
<p>He went online. The Sinclair was sold out, Jaskier was headlining, with two supporting acts. Geralt spent a good while talking himself into going home, to his empty apartment, to sleep alone.</p>
<p>But the part of him he’d been denying for over a year pointed out how close the venue was, only one train stop away. Just around Triss’s office at Harvard. Only a few minutes by car. </p>
<p>His better nature won. At the venue entrance, he hesitated, and then called Roach in panic.</p>
<p>“I’m at Jaskier’s show,” Geralt said the moment she answered.</p>
<p>“Okay?”</p>
<p>“I’m standing outside.”</p>
<p>“Well, go inside.”</p>
<p>“It’s sold out,” Geralt grunted, feeling nervous.</p>
<p>“Tell them you’re on the guest list.”</p>
<p>“But I’m not.”</p>
<p>“Geralt, I talked to Jaskier last night. Trust me, you’re on that list.”</p>
<p>She hung up before he could say anything else. He felt himself begin to perspire. He hadn’t seen Jaskier in so long, too long. The last time came back to him and he hated the way he’d walked away and broken Jaskier’s heart.</p>
<p>“Hi, do you have a ticket?” asked the lanky fellow at the booth.</p>
<p>“Uh. No. Guest list,” Geralt grunted.</p>
<p>“Can I see your ID?”</p>
<p>Geralt fetched his license, his gut churning with nerves, and then he was given a neon pink paper wristband.</p>
<p>“You can go in now, sir.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Okay.”</p>
<p>The place was hot, so packed there was barely any room to stand. Geralt went to the bar and got himself something cool to chug. There was music already playing, not Jaskier’s band from the looks of it, though he didn’t know which of the supporting acts it was, either. Geralt looked around, expecting at any moment to see Jaskier. </p>
<p>Beer in hand, he relocated closer to the merch table. The t-shirts, the CDs, the pins, they were everywhere, and he didn’t know what belonged to whom. He chose to ask the person sitting there handling cash.</p>
<p>“Jaskier?” he said.</p>
<p>The girl pointed to the biggest section of the merch stand, for which there was a small queue. Geralt made out the album cover, copied on clothes and stickers and pins. BELONG, he kept reading over and over again. </p>
<p>Finally at the head of the line, Geralt picked up a CD and realized the album title. He couldn’t think of anything more fitting.</p>
<p>Geralt turned the CD over to see the tracklist, but the venue suddenly went darker and quiet. He frowned, not having realized the band earlier was already off stage, and he got out his phone for light. People on the floor started cheering and clapping loudly. Geralt ignored them to focus on the track listing. </p>
<p>The first two titles caught him off guard: <i>My Lighthouse. Rhythm Composer.</i> He skimmed hastily through the rest. <i>Everything I am is Yours. Hot Scary Summer. No One to Blame.</i> Geralt put the CD down, thinking he should leave, he wasn’t ready for this. A year and half wasn’t enough time to face what he’d fucked up. </p>
<p>Cheers filled the venue, and grew louder until a voice answered from the stage.</p>
<p>“Good evening, Boston!”</p>
<p>Geralt froze. Spotlights came on and lit the most beautiful face he’d longed to see. Jaskier slid his guitar across his shoulders and lapsed into his first song, spoken and sung with a sincerity that felt addressed solely to Geralt.</p>
<p>The end of the song was met with loud applause and cheer. More lights came up and Jaskier worked the crowd, speaking about how good it was to be back in Boston, something about performing the album in order.</p>
<p>“This album was written for a man, whom I loved very much,” Jaskier said, and Geralt could not stare across the crowd anymore. He hung his head. “And every night that I’ve performed it since last year, I found myself hoping he’d hear that first song, My Lighthouse, and every other song, just once.”</p>
<p>There was some tuning and shuffling around the stage. A full band came on and they launched into more music. Geralt heard words that took him back to moments he didn’t dare reminisce upon. Jaskier exposed what they once had, threaded together with melodies, and when the mood of the tunes changed, he understood better than anyone just why it seemed his ex-boyfriend was howling his heart out.</p>
<p>And then suddenly, Jaskier was gone backstage with his band, and Geralt panicked, because that hadn’t felt like it was enough. The story was not over. Not yet. He breathed deeply when Jaskier emerged for an encore. </p>
<p>“Thank you so much Boston for coming out to see us play,” Jaskier said, “and to our mutant brothers and sisters, struggling for better lives, I see you. I stand by you. I love you.”</p>
<p>The cheers at the end lasted ten minutes. Jaskier and his band stayed and bowed gratefully for it all. The venue had been stifling, too hot, and after hearing an entire relationship narrated back to him from Jaskier’s perspective, Geralt had one goal. </p>
<p>People came out one after the other. It took too long. Then, the venue seemed like it was closing. Geralt went around to the back and lingered on the street. People smoked cigarettes and loaded vans. A bus was also being loaded.</p>
<p>Geralt fine tuned his hearing and caught the sound of Jaskier’s voice. He made himself visible under the nearest streetlight and watched Jaskier emerge with the guys he’d shared the stage. They were debating where to get drinks to celebrate wrapping up the tour. One of them joked about sleeping for a month. Jaskier was on his phone, smiling, but quiet. He looked leaner than Geralt remembered him.</p>
<p>A long-haired, dusky man emerged and put his hand on Jaskier’s nape. He murmured, in a low, private tone, “Want to get out of here?”</p>
<p>Jaskier looked up to answer, but his gaze moved past the man, further down the street, where a white-haired, golden-eyed stranger awaited.</p>
<p>“No,” Jaskier whispered. “You guys go on.”</p>
<p>Geralt stared long and hard. Jaskier seemed to be doing the same, to make sure he was seeing correctly. Geralt took a step back, distancing from the group, and Jaskier followed tentatively. When his bandmates called out for him, Jaskier told them he’d catch up, without looking at them, as if he feared tearing his gaze from Geralt would make the man disappear.</p>
<p>Once it was just the two of them, a few more tense moments passed in silence.</p>
<p>“Hi,” Geralt finally said, sounding more gruff than intended.</p>
<p>“H-H…” Jaskier couldn’t wrap his tongue around the word.</p>
<p>“Great show,” Geralt said. “I heard… everything.”</p>
<p>“Ah.”</p>
<p>“Thanks… for the guest list.”</p>
<p>Jaskier’s mouth trembled, but he found his voice. “You know I’ve done it in every city. Stupid, I know. But I did just in case you ever…” The words left him as quickly as they’d come.</p>
<p>“How are you?” Geralt asked, and immediately regretted his choice of a question.</p>
<p>“Better,” Jaskier said after a moment. “Much better.”</p>
<p>“That’s good.”</p>
<p>“How… how are you?”</p>
<p>“I feel like a piece of shit,” Geralt said frankly. “I hurt you. I knew that. I didn’t realize how badly until I heard your songs.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Jaskier chuckled. “It was pretty bad. Dark, dark times. I’m seeing a therapist now.”</p>
<p>“That’s… wow. That’s good.” Geralt ran a hand over his jaw, the words stuck on his tongue.</p>
<p>“Nice beard. The… scar is new, though. Accident?”</p>
<p>“I got in some trouble,” Geralt said. “Jaskier…”</p>
<p>“Why did you come here tonight? After so long?”</p>
<p>Geralt felt at a loss. “I’m sorry for the way I hurt you, Jaskier. You didn’t deserve that. Not when you were right.”</p>
<p>“Please answer the--” Jaskier paused. “Hang on. What did you just say?”</p>
<p>“I get it now. What you meant.” Geralt sighed deeply. “About who I am. You were right. I’m not just a mutant. I’m sorry I pushed you away when I couldn’t see it.”</p>
<p>Jaskier turned away very suddenly, looked up, and pressed his palm across his eyes. He inhaled deeply, so deeply Geralt was concerned.</p>
<p>“You are so much more,” Jaskier whispered. Geralt saw, when he finally faced him again, that Jaskier was smiling, though sadly. His eyes looked bright, illuminated by something deep inside him. “You are so much more than who you’ve been led to believe you are.”</p>
<p>“I couldn’t see it until you did. Long after you did.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Jaskier said, wiping his face, clearing his throat violently as though to dissuade his voice from betraying him. “It seems dreams do come true. I’m glad we’re on the same page. It’s about time. So, I hear there’s a new lady in your life.”</p>
<p>Geralt frowned. “Who told you that?”</p>
<p>“Oh, you don’t have to give me any details. I just hope she’s good to you,” Jaskier quickly said, “and makes you happier than I could. I’m going to go, I think, but it was nice seeing you, Geralt.”</p>
<p>Geralt stood there, speechless, not knowing what just happened. What lady? Happier than Jaskier could?</p>
<p>“I still have feelings for you, Jaskier,” Geralt called loudly, so there wasn’t a chance Jaskier misheard. He advanced, glad his words gave the other pause. “There’s no lady. There’s no one else. I came here tonight because I still love you.” He came around to face Jaskier, searching his eyes. “I want you back. I can understand if there is someone else in your life--”</p>
<p>“There isn’t,” Jaskier breathed, and Geralt felt his brain come to a screeching freeze at the knowledge. “I’m still in love with you, too. I never, for one moment, stopped.”</p>
<p>It seemed so unbelievably simple and fortunate, Geralt wanted to scream for having waited this long. When he dwelled in silence, Jaskier added, “And I forgive you. For everything.”</p>
<p>“I don’t deserve you.”</p>
<p>“Take me anyway,” Jaskier said, hastening to fling himself into Geralt, who had just enough time to catch the musician, and kiss him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KKAFZtikjZY&amp;list=PL_gZVebd8qNUeoBSk-q6URNYlmulPTKfW">Belong Studio Album</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/post/623197333527609345/authors-notedisclaimer-all-lyrics-and-music">Jaskier's Album Commentary</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>EPILOGUE</b>
</p><p>First it was coffee, the night of the concert, tentative, and sweet. A few days later, they had dinner. Then, Geralt asked Jaskier to come over, and that turned into a weekend of make up sex -- with a Monday included. Though Geralt didn’t have the day off, coming home to Jaskier, in his kitchen, looking comfortable and happy to see him, was heartwarming and settling.</p><p>Not long after, they agreed, properly, to salvage what they once had, to try again and even if something went wrong, to keep trying. Geralt found himself sharing his worldview in a way he could not have fathomed to feel so intimate, and so good, because Jaskier truly saw and accepted him. </p><p>Since Jaskier was technically still teaching, though on a more part time basis, in addition to everything else he did musically, they split their time between each other’s places until late spring, when both agreed it might save them some gas if they lived together. Geralt had some savings, more than he’d ever had in his life, and buying a house was his idea. </p><p>“Absolutely,” Jaskier immediately agreed, over a pasta lunch Geralt had very proudly made for them. “I’ve been thinking it may be time to turn my apartment into a full blown studio as well. That, or just rent it out.”</p><p>“The extra income couldn’t hurt,” Geralt said. “You wouldn’t have to remodel, either, except maybe for the bedroom.”</p><p>“Move the furniture back, yes,” Jaskier agreed. “Then I wonder, should we budget for a house with an extra room I could use for music?”</p><p>“Yeah. Or one with enough space, maybe outside.” Geralt reached for Jaskier’s hand, thumbing his fingers. “I could build you something, if you wanted. Used to do construction, I still know a couple of contractors.”</p><p>Jaskier lit up sweetly, in the way that reminded Geralt how lucky he was to have someone like this. “Would you really? I’m not married to the idea of a studio-studio, especially considering how the record and singles have done with the label. But I will need a place for the instruments.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Geralt gave him a soft smile. He knew Jaskier was working on another album. He’d heard a lot of it, and knew it was nearly polished. “So, how many bedrooms? I can start looking at some listings.”</p><p>“Three, I suppose?” Jaskier considered, mouth twisting in the endearing way Geralt knew well. “We’d need a bedroom, obviously. One for Cirilla, of course. And a guest bedroom? For when Roach and the gang are over?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Geralt was on it the next day at work, during the breaks he took between work orders and meetings. He talked to colleagues and did his research, showing Jaskier options, getting feedback, and going back to researching. Eventually they went looking at houses in Brookline, Roslindale, and other areas in metro Boston. </p><p>Geralt’s only caveat was being able to get to Cambridge for work, preferably without spending more than an hour’s commute. He liked his job and was doing well there. If he  continued working hard, there were opportunities for him to be in a leadership position. A stabler future was finally within his reach and Geralt planned to stay with the company.</p><p>It was while they toured various houses that a memory returned to him. It seemed like forever ago when Jaskier once said something about wanting a dog. Geralt couldn’t remember which breed, but he remembered Jaskier talking about a baby, too. And marriage.</p><p>They found a quiet three bedroom in Brookline Village, with natural light and space and little to no additional work required if they were to close on the house. Geralt could comfortably handle the mortgage, something he told Jaskier, who loved the place as soon as they walked in, he wanted to do.</p><p>Out on the back porch, Jaskier’s blue eyes maintained their dreamy glassiness, as he gesticulated with flourish, “I want plants, I want a hanging porch chair, we’ll have a chic table and seats out here, perfect for summer, and, oooh, hanging lights. It’s going to be gorgeous. Don’t you think, Geralt?”</p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>Geralt really liked it, how it felt to be there, imagining living here. Jaskier went further on with all his decor plans, and it made Geralt feel soft and warm inside. He could feel this would be their house. It was time.</p><p>“Hey Jaskier?” Geralt called, approaching the very distracted man, who had his back turned as he pondered whether he had the chops to garden.</p><p>“Yeah, darling.”</p><p>“Remember, um,” he swallowed, thickly, “when you used to talk about marrying me and stuff?”</p><p>Jaskier’s neck straightened up, and he turned with a bemused smile, only to find Geralt down on one knee. He went still, his brow slackened. Geralt fished a box from his pocket and pried it open.</p><p>“Will you marry me?” Geralt asked.</p><p>Jaskier made a sound halfway between a gasp and a cough, though his recovery was quick. Eyes wide, with a smile on his face, Geralt thought he was perfect. There was no else out there for him.</p><p>“God,” Jaskier cried. “Yes! Fuck yes.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Geralt fixed the ring on his finger. “Wanna be Mr. Rivia?”</p><p>“YES.” Jaskier snatched and drew Geralt to his feet, so they could share a vicious kiss. “Yes. A thousand times yes, I will marry you.”</p><p>“You know I’m probably going to outlive you, right?” Geralt said, nosing lightly into Jaskier. His, as of a few moments ago, fiancé. They’d talked at length about Geralt’s actual age, his irrational life expectancy, and Jaskier had wanted to stay, in spite of that.</p><p>“Yes,” Jaskier said. “And lucky me, I say, seeing as you’re going to remain my hunky husband forever, even when I’m wizened.”</p><p>“Hmm.” A good point Geralt hadn’t considered. They shared another kiss, until the realtor found them, apologetically admitting she’d captured the proposal on her phone. “Come on,” Geralt said to Jaskier. “Let’s close on the house, start the rest of our lives together.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Ciri adjusted the cap over her pale hair with another bobby pin and hustled to take her place in line. It was hard to believe six years had passed, and she was already graduating from Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, going on to university in a few months.<p>She smiled at her friends as she found her spot, admiring the creative touches they’d added to their caps, and showing off her own. The gowns had to remain intact, except for those students graduating with honors, or entering X-Men training this summer.</p><p>A chime in her hand caught her attention. Ciri checked her phone and smiled at the message from her aunt. They were here, in their reserved seats. Ciri immediately called her back, tempted to break from her spot to go see them, even though there would be plenty of time for it after the ceremony.</p><p>“Hi Auntie Roach,” Ciri said, when the call was answered.</p><p>“Hi, my sweet graduate,” Roach answered. “You know, I have been to a lot of ceremonies like this in my day but this, hands down, is the coolest I’ve seen in a very long time. Where are you?”</p><p>“I’m standing in line, just waiting.” Ciri grinned, hearing music from the other end, knowing it was an orchestra led by one student capable of making all the instruments perfectly harmonize at will. “Are you with my dads? You’re kind of early actually.”</p><p>“No, it’s just Uncle Danek and Dara with me, honey,” Roach said. “Your fathers are on their way. We left a little earlier than them, of course because we drove from further out. Sounded like they had their hands full with the baby when I called.”</p><p>“That’s why I thought it might be easier if they came down a day before,” Ciri said, though not crossly. She loved her little brother, a bundle of happiness with his chubby, dimpled cheeks and his curly mop of hair. “But there’s still plenty of time.”</p><p>“I’ll text you when they find us,” Roach promised.</p><p>Ciri hung up, time moving quickly afterwards as she chattered and celebrated even before they were due to move out for the ceremony. She missed Roach’s text. Geralt had called her twice, and Jaskier’s apologetic message would drown in the myriad others Ciri wouldn’t have time to check, given the excitement of the day.</p><p>The caps were tossed, on the count of three, into the air, the graduating class proud and capable enough to enchant some of the hats into hovering in the sky long after they were free to rejoin their families. Ciri cut through the crowd, sensing her family where they clustered and chatted with X-Men, without whom Ciri wouldn’t be here today.</p><p>“Dad!” Ciri said, and Jaskier turned first, flowers in his hands, his smile for her bright.</p><p>“There she is. Congratulations, my dear,” Jaskier said, taking her into a hug. They were the same height now and Jaskier, in spite of having arrived just in time was, as usual, immaculately dressed. “I am so proud of you.”</p><p>“Thank you!” Ciri withdrew and flushed, to find a similar sentiment etched across Geralt’s features.</p><p>He held a drooling, teething Felix in one arm, as the other opened to embrace Ciri. </p><p>“Congratulations, kiddo.” Geralt still called her that, at twenty years old, even though they were the same height. “Proud of you. You’ve come so far.”</p><p>Ciri squeezed him tight. Regardless of age, she would always feel Geralt’s protection and care.</p><p>“Thanks, Geralt,” she said, and reached for her little brother to relieve him. He had all of four teeth which were displayed widely for her. “Hi Felix! Glad you could join us today.”</p><p>With her brother in tow, Ciri advanced into the awaiting arms of the rest of her family. The day would bring laughter, too many photos with friends, and time spent with all of her loved ones, together.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><i>Hi. This is Geralt Rivia. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you. Thanks.</i><p>“Darling, it’s me,” Jaskier said, after the tone. “Something’s come up with Felix, I don’t think we’ll make the recital tonight. Right, phone me back when you can? Love you.”</p><p>Worried blue eyes settled on his son’s mangled wrist and for a countless time, Jaskier tried to hold back a wince, considering he was more freaked out about the injury than its bearer. </p><p>Jaskier saw it happen, sitting in the stands of a soccer match he’d left the studio early to attend; Felix fell and did not land right. He’d only cried out once, before Jaskier raced over to the field, though the six year old had been more devastated at the prospect of leaving the game halfway through.</p><p>“You sure you’re alright?” Jaskier asked, coming back over to sit beside his son on the too-tall examination table. </p><p>“Yeah. My bones look funny,” Felix said, raising his arm for Jaskier’s inspection. </p><p>They’d been here a couple of hours and were finally waiting for X-rays, and next steps.</p><p>“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt too bad?”</p><p>“Only a little bit. It’s okay, Daddy. I still have one good wrist.”</p><p>“Alright.” For his first injury, Felix was taking it surprisingly well. Jaskier gave him a cuddle, remembering all the pediatric appointments, ear infections, and daycare calls, dropping absolutely everything at a moment’s notice for his son. </p><p>Felix’s little cleated feet kicked around while they waited, until the doctor returned with the X-ray results.</p><p>“So, good news and bad news,” said the orthopedist to Jaskier. “Which would you like first?”</p><p>“I'd rather you just tell me the results,” Jaskier sighed, not up for cheerfulness, when his son was injured.</p><p>“Well, the bad news is, Felix’s bones are definitely broken and out of place,” the doctor said. “He’s going to need a slight corrective surgery to make sure it grows back in place.”</p><p>“What on earth is the good news then?” Jaskier frowned.</p><p>“Good news is, we can get it fixed today if you want. Normally you’d have to schedule and come back in, especially at another hospital, but I’m told the ER can see him as soon as we prepare him.  We do this all the time, it should be a pretty quick procedure. And at his age, bones will grow right back to normal within a couple of weeks.” The X-Ray results were shared and reviewed, and Jaskier saw the splintering that needed correcting.</p><p>“Grand, well, he hasn’t eaten in a couple of hours." Jaskier didn't like it, but he'd worried it would come down to this. "I assume that’s a pre-requisite?”</p><p>“Yes, at least six hours,” the doctor said. She smiled at Felix. “We’re going to give you a cast and a cool sling for your arm. Want to see it?”</p><p>“Yeah!”</p><p>“Great! The nurse is just on her way to prepare you, alright? I’ve got some paperwork for you, if that’s alright, Mr. Rivia?”</p><p>“Yes, that’s fine,” Jaskier said. “How long exactly will this take?”</p><p>“No more than two hours total. He should only be under for a portion of that.”</p><p>Jaskier nodded, meaning to say he was glad it could be corrected today, when his phone rang. “Excuse me, that'll be my husband.” He stepped just outside the Orthopedist’s office to answer Geralt’s call. “Darling?”</p><p>“Hey babe. Sorry, I was in meetings, left my phone,” Geralt said. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“Felix broke his wrist during his football match.”</p><p>“He <i>what</i>? Is he okay?”</p><p>“He’s alright,” Jaskier hastened to say, “but I’m afraid he’ll need surgery to right it. They’ll be giving him some kind of cast.”</p><p>The shuffle on the other end and background noise indicated Geralt was on his way out of work. “Where are you guys?”</p><p>“Children’s Hospital Orthopedic,” Jaskier said. “It’s likely we’ll be here a while.”</p><p>“You guys need me to come get you after the recital?” Geralt asked.</p><p>“No, that’s alright. We’re at the Weymouth hospital, so closer to home anyway.” Jaskier smiled at the nurse who made it past him to enter the room. “Kiss Daisy for me and tell her I am sorry.”</p><p>“I will.” The sound of a car starting was heard and suddenly Jaskier heard the distance of the bluetooth speaker in Geralt’s voice. “Can I talk to Felix?”</p><p>Jaskier smiled fondly, a bit of his worry melting away. Twelve years of marriage and not a day went by he did not consider saying yes to Geralt the best decision he’d made.</p><p>“Yeah, hang on.” Jaskier had a chat with the doctor while Felix spoke to his father. </p><p>Soon they were in the Emergency Room, Jaskier kissed Felix on the brow, and waited. It was over soon enough, his son wheeled out with a cast, sling, animal crackers and a juice box. </p><p>Jaskier was glad to see the hospital behind them, though it was too late to make it to their other engagement. The soccer game would have ended in plenty of time for them to even head home for a snack, and make the recital. Now, several hours later, Jaskier was just relieved to take his son home. </p><p>“Trainers off, please,” Jaskier said when they got in, and were practically tackled by their Golden Retriever.</p><p>“Can I give Caspian a treat? Can I take him outside?”</p><p>“You may. Just as soon as we get you out of your jersey and into the bath.” </p><p>Normally bath time was well after dinner, but with the cast needing to be protected, Jaskier preferred to clean up early.</p><p>It was early evening by the time they were both dressed more comfortably. Jaskier stared out of the window, into the vast backyard, where Felix played with the dog.</p><p>They’d bought the new, bigger house before Daisy was born, moving out to Weymouth with now two properties in Boston being rented and earning them income, in addition to both their professions. </p><p>Jaskier got started on dinner, proud of his past self for saving himself time by previously browning pie crusts for a quiche. It was Felix’s favorite. He brought the child a proper snack and kissed him fondly atop the head.</p><p>“You and Casp come back in soon, alright pet? It’s starting to get dark.”</p><p>“Five more minutes!”</p><p>Jaskier agreed, as he went to start on the vegetable sides for dinner, though it took less time than five minutes for it to happen. A car pulled into the garage and the side door, close to the kitchen, pushed open, two voices spilling animatedly inside.</p><p>Now that he was a manager, Geralt wore a suit nearly daily. Jaskier personally styled and fitted him, as good husbands do. He had his leather bag over one shoulder, and Daisy, clad in a tutu, perched on his opposite arm, with her dark curls up in a bun. She lit up when she saw Jaskier, who dropped everything to make for them.</p><p>“There you two are, and just in time for dinner.” Geralt came in for a much sought after kiss, and then handed over their three-year-old. “Hiya petal. How was the recital? I am so sorry we couldn’t make it.”</p><p>“Daisy is a professional,” Geralt said, sounding dead serious, to her delighted squeal of laughter. “She was the best up there, huh, Daze?”</p><p>“The other dancers started crying, Daddy, but I didn’t,” she said proudly. “Dadda took a zillion pictures.”</p><p>“A zillion?” Jaskier believed it. He gave her a squeeze, and all the kisses. “I’m so proud of you, my big girl.”</p><p>Felix and the dog leapt inside, swiftly reuniting with Geralt, who knelt to ask in his gentle tone how their little boy was feeling. </p><p>Five albums and numerous EPs under his belt, and still, it was the sight of his children and husband, at home together, which gave Jaskier purpose. With them he belonged, now and evermore.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for clicking, reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! :)</p><p>This fic was inspired by the following material:</p><p>Ph.D Dissertation<br/><a href="https://search.proquest.com/openview/a272c926669b620784d0a8ba6616d652/1?pq-origsite=gscholar&amp;cbl=18750&amp;diss=y">Mutants, Mudbloods, and futureheroes: Mixed race identity in contemporary narrative</a></p><p>Film<br/><a href="https://www.netflix.com/title/80087743">Tamasha</a></p><p>Music<br/><a href="https://www.wearevillagers.com/"> Villagers</a></p><p>If you enjoyed the fic, please share it! :)</p><p>For more, follow me on tumblr <a href="https://aalizazareth.tumblr.com/tagged/belongfic">@aalizazareth</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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